Game
by justonemorefic
Summary: Being the Ravenclaw Quidditch strategist comes with a few occupational hazards, namely an intrusive Oliver Wood snooping for secrets. Rona Switt is in for quite the season. —Oliver Wood/OC—
1. The Secret Has a Temper

**Title: **Game

**Genre:** Romance, Humor, Drama

**Ship:** Oliver/OC

**Summary:** _Being a Quidditch strategist comes with a few occupational hazards — intrusive fit Gryffindor blokes snooping for secrets, an overly paranoid captain, scandalous entanglements with the enemy (it's less exciting than it sounds), and a web of deception so intricate that it would make Rita Skeeter's head spin. Rona Switt is in for quite the season._

This was my very first HP fic :) This fic's original home is HPFF and I'm cross-posting it here for convenience. There are **chapter images** and **author's notes** and **updated edits **available at HPFF, and I will be able to respond to anonymous reviews there, so please read the story there instead if you'd like to see these things!

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><p>Rona craned her head out of the booth, as black swathes of hair whipped into her face at gale speeds. Her hands clenched the railing until they were white at the knuckles. She was but one of the dozen other riotous Quidditch fans a hundred feet in the air.<p>

"_Randolph Burrow, you better not be doing what I think you're doing!_"

It was exactly thirty-eight minutes into the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game, and she had already shouted enough profanities to make a dementor blush.

The fifth year Chaser who was the recipient of her threat sped across the pitch, Quaffle in hand, but his flight didn't last for long before a Bludger struck him in the side.

"_Ohhhh! _And Burrow takes a hit! Possession goes to Hufflepuff — "

Rona slammed her fists down, fury silencing her ears to the rest of the commentary. She promptly jabbed Penny to her right. "Did you see that? He — "

"Yes, yes," Penny dismissed, waving a hand at her. Her eyes didn't stray from the game.

"But you know what I told him! Charging through the beaters is as far from what I told him — "

"Just watch the game."

"But it cost us the goal — " A tussle by their goalposts diverted Rona's attention. She opened her mouth wide to yell again, "_ROGER, FOCUS_ — "

"Rona, if you don't shut up now" — Penny whirled around, eyes narrowing — "I will go _Silencio_ on you." She turned back with a huff. "Always like this at our first game... Jordan's already one too many commentators..."

Penny would follow through with her threat; never doubt the prefect. Rona's attention flicked back to the game, mouth drawn into a pout and twitching every few seconds with each intolerable mistake.

As the one who voluntarily spent her time and effort on the team as their spy, tactician, and coach, Rona did not appreciate when the team failed to follow her plays. They were carefully planned and expounded, taking all possibilities into account with all possible back-ups and precautions. But expecting them to stick to the plan was out of the question, especially since the team was full of twits who always thought that their _own_ ideas were good ideas.

Three years and they still haven't learned.

When she first entered Hogwarts, she didn't pay much attention to Quidditch at all until Penny, the biggest Quidditch fan to ever grace the Ravenclaw House, filled her in on the fuss. Thwacking each other with lead balls seemed, well, rather barbaric. Then Rona found out that barbaric was _deliciously competitive._

It was soon after that Penny noticed Rona's knack for anticipating moves. Well, more accurately, it was difficult to ignore Rona's babbling about how the team's plays were _obvious_ and _in dire need of a few brain cells_. Penny dragged her to then-Captain Cornelius "Corny" Quint (mostly to shut her friend up), demanding that Rona be put to use.

And so she was. Over time, it became more than a few tips — full-fledge plays, attending every practice, intel on other teams. You didn't get anywhere looking inward only.

Her help didn't matter, however, if they kept_ ignoring_ it.

Rona managed to keep her mouth shut for a full three minutes past Randolph's glaring error, enduring multiple atrocities committed against her play.

But when Randolph attempted to muscle past the Beaters again, it was too much.

"_THAT DAFT LITTLE mmmphh_ — "

Rona's eyes flew to Penny. Penny was tucking her wand back under her robes. "Much better."

The boys' locker room was in a state of chaos not unlike the second circle of Hell. Rona figured there was no harm in adding a little more.

"_Why didn't you stick to the plan?_" she growled at Randolph, jabbing him in the chest.

She had snuck in the back entrance after the match. Locker infiltration was typical, certainly done enough so that she hardly bat an eye at the six boys in various states of undress. She liked to think of her presence as a moral booster.

Randolph winced, trying to hide behind his locker door. "Look, I know I should've, but it was just _such_ an opportunity. Maybe you didn't see from the stands, but from my point of view, I mean it's just something you need to have seen and well... and…" He stopped babbling when it was clear that she wasn't about to offer even a hint of a smile. "C'mon we won, didn't we?"

"Just _barely_!" Rona shouted, voice continuing to rise as Randolph shrank. "And you know _why_ we won right? Because _Cho_ was following the plan. _Jeremy _was following the plan. Even _Jason_, who never listens to what I say, even _he_ was following the plan! If he hadn't bludgered_ the hell_ out of Hufflepuff's Chasers, it would've _been hell_ to regain the Quaffle after your little _opportunity_, not to mention — "

"There isn't anything else to mention," Jason interrupted in a gleefully arrogant voice. Rona spun around to find the scrawny sixth year, lashing Randolph in the face with her hair.

Jason beamed, striking a pose, "I bludgered those Chasers damn well and that's all anyone will talk about."

Rona rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. Glancing back at Randolph, he was closed-eye and reciting a mantra of 'please-don't-kill-me-have-mercy'.

She huffed. "I can't let him off that easily though, can I?" she said, putting her hands on her hips.

One of Randolph's eyes flicked open. "Of course you can."

Jeremy, who had been standing by, finally came to his aid. "Come off it," said the sandy-haired seventh year, ambling over to place a hand on her shoulder. "He was stupid, but he made up for it by those last-minute goals. And we _did _win, you know."

Rona grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, we won. Good job guys." Then with a smirk and audacious lift of the chin, she added, "Told you the Finking Filch maneuver works."

"_Aaaaand she's back, Davies and gentlemen!_" Jason bellowed in a mock-announcer voice as he walked down the aisle toward her, holding an imaginary microphone. "How does it feel to be returning from a round of Randolph-level idiocy?"

Before she could say, 'Not as bad as your level of idiocy', Roger popped up from behind the back row, raising a brow. "Did you just call me a lady, Samuels?" Before Jason could reply, Roger turned to Rona, schematics of the next game on mind. "It was a great plan you cooked up for us this time, but next up are the Slytherins, and they've been training hard this year. Can you think up something by next week? I was thinking we use the Slay the Snake strategy that nearly won us the game last year."

Rona snorted. Roger was always business, which meant that he always had a broomstick up his arse. "_Nearly._ We'll need something better than that. Besides, I heard this winter's going to be rough and that strategy won't work nearly as well in bad weather."

She was already thinking up a play, positioning imaginary chasers and beaters on the Quidditch pitch of her mind. Roger at his goalposts. Grant and Jason to the right. Slytherins would likely fly here, here, and —

"Rona?" Jeremy snapped his fingers.

She was about to say, 'Jeremy, what are you doing over _there?_ You're supposed to be over here or else the beaters can aim at you!' and two of her hands hung in the air, plucking players from position to position. Snickering filled the room and a deep blush tinted her cheeks as she shot everyone a glare.

Hiding his amusement behind a hand, Jeremy held out her _Musings of a Half-Breed _book. "Shouldn't you get going?" he said. "To meet Penny?"

Rona winced. "Oh _right_." She imagined Penny was currently tapping her foot in the same disapproving manner Rona had directed to Randolph earlier.

She hurriedly grabbed her book and spun around toward the entrance, muttering her goodbyes.

Penny was indeed waiting outside, never one to enter the dreaded mess of the locker rooms willingly. She had an unusually wide-eyed smile on her face, which meant only one thing: she knew something.

Rona trudged up to her and said flatly, "Spill it."

The smile grew a little wider. "Well," she said, taking the first stride back to the castle, "I've overheard that Oliver Wood is looking for you."

She blinked. "Looking for me? Why? Something bludger him?" They were acquaintances at best, and what she knew of him was strictly Quidditch-related.

"Not _you_ you," Penny said, rolling her eyes. "He's on the hunt for whoever has been making our team so bloody spectacular."

Rona's brows raised. "He's found me out?"

Her aid to the team had still gone unknown to most of Hogwarts, despite her propensity for yelling at games. It was never meant to be a secret, but a mere consequence of her unassuming appearance, allowing perks such as conveniently 'reading' at the pitch while other teams were practicing without any suspicion arising. While she did not terribly care if anyone found out since it was her last year helping the team, she was particularly bothered that it was Oliver Wood who was searching for her. They still had a game left with Gryffindor.

"No, no. Just knows someone like you exists," said Penny. "It's funny. I always expected that if anyone found out, it'd be him. Only person more utterly obsessive than you are, really."

"Obsessed, I'm not obsessed…" Rona trailed off, choosing to stick out her tongue instead. "Certainly not as much as Oliver. That bloke would marry his broomstick if it were legal. And you're one to talk, Miss Never-missed-a-game-in-six-years."

Penny held a hand up. "I love Quidditch, but I will never voluntarily endure Roger that much to improve our team."

"True fan, my arse."

"No, it's called minimizing my desire to strangle him."

The pair laughed as they entered the castle, but Rona's face fell instantly as her eyes rested upon the Gryffindor captain walking out from the Great Hall. He was definitely looking for something — or _someone_ — the way his eyes were roving.

And just her luck, they stopped on her.

The pit of her stomach sank. Maybe Penny was wrong. Maybe he already found her out. There was no other reason for him to be looking at her right then. They never talked, but once something Quidditch-related popped up, Oliver was sure to be there.

Her fears seemed to be confirmed when he started heading in their direction. He waved, calling out, "I've been looking for you!"

Her mind froze up as she scrambled to think of an escape route. Her problem with Oliver was that he was quite fit, and fit Quidditch blokes meant trouble. There were stories about how they weaseled information out of girls with a smile and a wink. Even Roger had done it before. While Rona was well-equipped to repel such advances — all one needs is a brain — she cringed at the thought of being on the receiving end of anyone's attempted charms.

Penny, who was always poised, tilted her head as if she were oh-so pleasantly surprised to find him. "Oliver," she greeted.

Oliver held out a hand. "I was wondering if you wanted to talk Quidditch —"

"I'm busy," Rona interrupted suddenly, spouting the first vague excuse that came to mind.

It was only then that she noticed he had been addressing Penny. He hadn't even been facing Rona — until now. She mentally slapped herself. You daft girl. Other than the coincidence that she saw him right as they were discussing him, there was no reason to think he was looking for specifically _her_. Rona's gaze flicked to Penny's, pleading for help.

Penny placed a hand to her own forehead, mouthing, 'You're so _stupid_.'

Thankfully, when Rona glanced back at Oliver, he just smiled, if awkwardly. "Oh sorry," he said, "I'm actually talking to Penny."

"Woops! Silly me," Rona exclaimed, as if it had not already been obvious. She cleared her throat. "Well, you two... _talk_. I'm going to have fun with _Musings of a Half-Breed_. Thrilling night and everything. Mintin's about to discover his biological father, and I need to know what happens." She patted the cover of her book in the most purposeful way possible.

Oliver stared at her as if she sounded like a complete loon, which she did, but she didn't care much at the moment. She just hoped he would let her go without question.

"O...kay then," he finally said, giving her a wave.

Rona spun around as quickly as she could, leaving for the Ravenclaw tower, breathing easy only when they were out of sight.

Close calls were not to be taken for granted.

As soon as she arrived in the common room, she curled up on her favorite seat to finish the last chapter of her book. Though she fumbled through her excuse to Oliver, it didn't make it any less true. She couldn't wait to find out the protagonist's ancestry after three hundred pages of suspense and plot twists, and she stopped reading for no one.

Roger passed by a few times, attempting to talk about the game, as was Randolph, though he veered more toward groveling. But both failed in attracting much attention from her.

Perhaps it was due to her place in Ravenclaw, but she was bookish even compared to the House's standards. Such was the consequence of growing up next to a library. It didn't help that she wasn't in the mood to talk to pestering boys. Quidditch involved dealing with them. Reading did not. On occasion, her interests collided, like when she used books to shut Jason up during a practice session, projectile-style.

She did not look up until she finished the chapter, which revealed how Mintin's father died tragically in a freak baking accident. Penny sat across from her, hands folded in her lap.

Rona shut her book uneasily. Penny had that odd smile on her face again.

"Oliver's looking for you," said the blonde, grinning as she tapped her fingers against her knee. "He hasn't been bludgered. He really is looking for you. _You_ you."


	2. Let the Game Begin

"What the _hell_ happened?" asked Rona.

Penny raised an index finger. "He doesn't know. Look, we got on the topic of your job, so I feigned ignorance, but I swear he was seeing right through me. So I had to think of a way out."

"Which was...?"

"Saying that you knew who it was."

"_Why?_" Rona sputtered.

"Think about it." Penny was still the complete essence of calm, not a single blonde hair out of place. "He won't expect me to lead him to the very person he's looking for. So just talk with him a little or whatever he wants, and stall until we play against the Gryffindors."

"That's in _two months!_" Rona cried. She heaved a loud sigh. "You honestly couldn't have thought of a _better_ way to throw him off the trail?"

"Will you stop yelling? We're not on the pitch anymore — "

"Not that you let me yell on the pitch."

Penny rolled her eyes. "Oh _shush_, you were _annoying_. And for your information, no, I _couldn't _think of a better way. I tried a few other excuses, but it only made him more suspicious." She beckoned her to leave with a wave of her hand. "Now enough questions. Off you go. I think he's waiting for you in the armor gallery."

Rona shut her mouth into a sour pout, not budging from her seat. "There is something you are not telling me, Penelope Clearwater." Her eyes narrowed. Their auras were battling. "I don't have to listen to you."

She reached toward her book, but Penny snatched it first.

"Hmm, _Musings of a Half-Breed_?" Penny flipped through its pages carelessly. "Honestly, I don't understand how you can read this — _for fun_ no less. You inhale books like Weasleys inhale food." The book snapped shut, and she held it by her side. "I know you. You're going to talk to him just because you're curious, aren't you?"

Rona couldn't argue, and Penny pushing the curiosity wasn't helping either. What did he want from her? How much did he know?

"Bint," Rona grumbled

Penny's smile broadened. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking a shower before Edie hogs all the hot water. _Have fun._" She took the book with her as she ascended the staircase to the girls' dorm.

Rona glared in Penny's direction, just in case she decided to turn back. She did not.

Sighing, Rona slumped back on the sofa, only pulling herself up when heat building between her back and cushion became uncomfortable. Curiosity nagging, she dragged her feet over to the door. It swung open as she approached, letting in a rambunctious mess of fifth year boys. At the very back was Edie, who was hauling her brother by the collar.

"If I ever _ever_ catch you with a bag of Putrid Puffs again, I swear I'll tell mum about it and about that time you plugged up the loo on the sixth floor." Edie tightened her grip, causing her brother to emit a sound that warned of a desperate need for air. "I swear, that poor girl's going to stink for ages. You're lucky Flitwick only deducted forty points. I have no idea how you even got sorted in this house."

She continued to mutter random irrelevant obscenities until she let him go and he scrambled to join his other friends. She trudged toward the staircase and mumbled a grunt of recognition to Rona.

Rona responded with a sympathetic wince. "Long day?"

"You have _no_ idea." Every step Edie took reverberated with her frustration with how life seemed to dislike her. She muttered something that sounded like "long, hot bath."

It was hardly an unusual sight, and with a little girl talk Edie would go back to her normal self. Her brother was an unfortunate thorn in her side, but he wouldn't be a proper little brother if he were not.

Rona shook her head and ducked out to the hallways. She scanned around, listening for footsteps. The few minutes wandering reminded her why she hated the castle at night. Hallways were repeating themselves, while the moving staircases seemed to be betting which one could outwit her best. She thought she was heading toward the armor gallery, but as her calves began to ache, the evidence proved otherwise.

Having done a complete circle and returned to the Ravenclaw tower, she was about to give up when she heard a voice behind her.

"Rona! Just who I was looking for!"

She turned her head. Oliver was peeking around the corner.

He walked to her with a quick, sure step and flashed a smile. "I hoped Penny would've found you sooner. Past curfew now, I bet."

"Then it'll probably be best if you _quiet down_," Rona muttered, antsy to get back to her room. She tried not to stare directly at him, not sure what his arsenal had in store.

She was hardly immune to a bloke's charms, what with her track record of fancying Quidditch captains during her adolescent years — she still remembered Charlie Weasley's arms _quite_ vividly. No, she was merely smart enough to have a little sense and take preventive measures.

"Right, right," said Oliver, still in the same volume. His attention was singularly focused on her, and the odd corners of her ears turned hot. "Enjoy your book?"

"Yeah... I guess," she said, still faintly embarrassed by her earlier blunder. Impatience still took precedence. "So, you called me down here because...?"

"Penny said you're also a big fan of Quidditch." He tilted his head toward her, the angle perfectly capturing the nearby candles so his eyes sparkled. "I've noticed actually. There's so few girls interested nowadays. It's really an attractive quality, and I mean that of the true fans only. She told me that you've been to every game, rain or sleet or anything, even if you're sick — "

"Oliver," Rona interrupted. He was going nowhere. If he was going to flirt with her, he should at least have the decency to do it well. "Point, please. Now."

His mouth paused open, but he soon sealed it with another smile. "Well, I like to keep up with the other teams." He leaned against the wall, close enough for her to feel his breath and a stifling pressure built against her lower back. "Learn more information about them, about their fans. I have to admit I've had my eye on you for awhile — "

"Oliver," Rona interrupted again. "You're a bit close, don't you think?" She wasn't sure how even anyone _without _a brain could fall for this. She backed away to avoid what she believed to be his charming advances and decided to cut off their conversation early to save them both from further embarrassment. "If we're breaking curfew so you can ask me out for some hypothetical butterbeer, the answer is no."

He stood there staring again as if appraising her. Then the tiniest smirk formed. "I should have known," he muttered. "You're going to make this hard."

There was something oddly threatening about his words. "Ex...cuse me?" she said, taking another step back.

"Penny must've told you I'm looking for the Ravenclaw Strategist, right?" Oliver said, the charming overtures gone. He threw his hands up. "Well, I am. Thought it was just a legend for years, and hell, you're the first real trail I get, so I'm bloody desperate to find out who he is."

_He._ The word stuck out like a screaming mandrake. She could barely stop herself from laughing out loud. Not only did he not realize that the person he was looking for was right in front of him, but he thought she was a bloke. His other words sunk in right after and she couldn't help but grin, ego roused. She was a _legend_.

The implications of their entire conversation suddenly sunk in, however, and the good mood slipped away faster than a slippery Snitch.

"_You think I'm this easy?_" she cried, jabbing her finger into his chest.

"Shh," Oliver put a hand to her mouth so suddenly that she froze in place. He leaned in, smirking. "It'll be best if we, you know, quiet down. Wouldn't want Filch to think we were up to no good, do you?"

Suddenly, he wasn't so easy to dismiss anymore. A definite intent glinted in his eye, and his entire demeanor changed.

"Idnnhffunetingg," Rona mumbled through his fingers, which she was very tempted to bite if he didn't remove them soon. He did. "_You_ are up to no good. And I don't have to tell you anything."

He slumped back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know that. That's where the charm part comes in. Usually."

She gave a contemptuous snort, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, like that works. 'I've had my eye on you for awhile'? What sort of pick-up line is that?"

"One that I thought would work."

"Well, thank you for thinking so highly of me."

He chuckled. "That's what I was forgetting."

"What?"

"That you're smart."

His compliment had come out of nowhere, which simultaneously flattered and worried her. Rona narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what you're trying to do, Oliver, but I'm not playing your game." She turned to leave, but Oliver grabbed her wrist and pulled her to face him.

"I don't think you get it. What part of_ 'I'm bloody desperate_' do you not understand?"

The ire sprang out. "And you think_ I am?_" she hissed, pointing her finger threateningly at his jugular. "Who do you think I am, that you can_ snog me_ until you get an answer?"

"That can be arranged," Oliver said, returning to his earlier suave voice. He swiftly closed the gap between them, bodies a whisper apart.

Unlike his earlier attempts to charm her, the sudden change in proximity caught her off guard. Unfortunately, that gave her time to notice the sudden warmth, the breath that tickled her nose, and his mischievous eyes.

That explained the swooning girls.

But it was hardly going to affect her sensibilities. Her balled-up fists, on the other hand, were quite affected. "Don't. Don't you _dare_," she said sternly, not breaking her gaze.

"Everyone has a weakness."

Rona considered having said fist greet his cheek in a swift, violent manner, but he released her. She rubbed her wrists, muttering, "Should call you out for harassment."

"Look, I'm sorry, really," said Oliver. The sincerity was lost on her. "I expected something different. I get too engrossed in work sometimes."

The conversation was raising up too many questions and not enough answers. "You're a Keeper. I don't see how meeting girls in dark hallways constitutes as part of your work. And what about Penny? What were you two talking about anyway? Merlin knows you can't do _this._" Her hands flapped in the space between them. "She's your roommate's girl, after all."

"You really think I am that dense, don't you?" Oliver shook his head. Well, he certainly hadn't proven himself to be otherwise. "Percy was with me, for your information. She spent most of her time talking to him. And oi — I do respect a girl who knows a thing or two about Quidditch." After glancing at her glower that told him volumes of his implications, he added, "Yeah, you're a fan too, I know. I just thought perhaps you'd appreciate my lovely _persuasion_ instead."

"Well, I _don't._"

He looked her once over. Twice over. "No doubt if you know the identity of the Strategist, you must know a lot about Quidditch yourself. He obviously trusts you with that information."

A smug lilt lifted her smile. She was never complimented enough since she worked under the radar. Roger was always going on about his capabilities as captain, but she did just as much as he did short of actually playing.

They reached another awkward lull. If Oliver insisted on her presence, she may as well do some snooping herself? "Why do you want to know so badly, anyway?"

He gave her a sidelong glance before taking a deep breath. "If you really want to know, first, I'm just curious. It's about Quidditch. I can't not know something about Quidditch." He stood up straighter, counting off with his fingers. Rona recognized this pose from his Quidditch practice speeches. "Second, tactical obviously. I won't hide it. Plays reflect the person who makes them. Fred always said he can smell one of mine before every practice." It was his chance to smile smugly. "Third, well, I want to meet the bloke. I've seen Ravenclaw play, that Strategist has brilliant plays. If the team were a bit better, I'd be in trouble. Still, love to meet someone like that." He resumed leaning against the wall on his elbow. "So, is that a good enough answer for you?"

Rona had been eying him suspiciously, but she loosened up every time Oliver complimented her skills — or rather, the _Strategist's_ skills. _Strategist._ Honestly, what a name! Why hadn't _she_ thought of that?

She knew he wasn't going to give up, no matter what he said, and if he was going to keep following her regardless, she may as well have some fun, and if she got lucky, get some dirt on the Gryffindor team.

She had been trying to phase out the more frowned-upon practices of her job. Spying on classmates still pressed her conscience at time, even if she wasn't particularly close with them. But Quidditch was still an underhanded sport, the kind that needed over seven hundred fouls listed on the books. After all, Oliver was in the hallway with her for a reason and it was far from jolly old sportsmanship.

"Fine," said Rona after her thoughts stopped at a devious idea. She noticed Oliver's eyes lighting up. "Don't get too hopeful. I'm not telling you outright. I'm offering a… _trade_."

"Trade?" Oliver said hesitantly. "What sort of trade?"

"Ever play twenty questions? Ask any yes or no question, but you have to do something in return for every question." If he was as desperate as he said he was, he would take the bait.

He responded even more cautiously. "Something? What sort of something?"

"Do you have to use that sort of suspicious tone for _everything?_ It's nothing too bad. I'm not a sadist. Besides, what's the worst a dorm full of girls can come up with?"

Describing Oliver as looking uncomfortable was an understatement. The tables were turned, and he didn't seem the type to like losing control.

"Take it or leave it," she said, turning and walking away.

She counted in her breaths. _Three...two...one..._

"I'll do it."

Baited and hooked. Rona spun around, grinning widely. "And you thought you were just going to chat me up. Got more than you bargained for didn't you?"

He seemed ready for a retort, but he was almost... amused. "You're bloody difficult, you know that?"

"You're extremely conducive to my sanity, too." She began walking away again.

"Strategist. In your year?"

"Of course," she said, not bothering to look back. "I'll have your punishment tomorrow."

Rona didn't even know what she was going to do to him, but the small victory was enough. When she finally got back to the common room and the door closed behind her, the impact of what occurred finally hit her. In ten minutes, he had already managed to eliminate ninety-five percent of the potential possibilities and look good doing it.

Damn fit Quidditch blokes


	3. News Spreads Faster Than a Snitch

The whirling thoughts in Rona's head ceased as she entered the dormitory, although it was doomed to come back what with the thrilling night in progress, packed with the excitement of Runes and Herbology. The looming N.E.W.T.S had sucked the fun out of the seventh years long ago.

"What were you doing out so long? Naughty, naughty." Hannah was resting flat on her stomach on her bed, feet dangling in the air and paying meticulous attention to her nails with one eye while the other scanned the text in front of her. It was, as Rona dubbed it, the Ravenclaw multitask.

Rona left that question unanswered as she plunked down on her pillow. She reached behind it and pulled out a Muggle book she had been reading the week before. "Just met with Oliver Wood."

They all shared one common viewpoint about boys. _Tiring_. Rona had her Quidditch team, Edie had her brother and all of his fifth year friends, and Penny had an _entire Weasley clan_ attached to her boyfriend. The only exception was Hannah, who prided herself in being the flirt of the four, but in reality, she just liked to stir up trouble.

She could turn an innocent study group meeting with a crush into a story about a romp through the library, bodice-ripping included. "It's all about how you word it. If you can't find gossip, make gossip," she always said. But she never kept a bloke for long.

"So what happened?" Hannah said in her nudging tone.

"Nothing! Not really I guess. Just dealt with him like I deal with the boys. A good verbal bludger to the face. But I got him to agree to play something like that old game of ours. You know, ask questions, do a dare."

"He finally onto your secret then?"

"You'd think so," Rona muttered, "but no, he just thinks I know who it is, thanks to Penny. For someone who's that obsessed with Quidditch, he's sort of slow to figure things out. I mean, he thinks it's a bloke. "

Penny propped her head up with her elbow. "With the sort of people on our team, I would have thought this would've become common knowledge already. Does anyone really think Roger's smart enough to figure out all the stuff you do?"

Hannah snapped her book shut. "Yeah, if no one's noticed you eavesdropping at the locker rooms — "

" — or spying at other team's practices while she's supposedly reading," Penny interjected. "Honestly, how does anyone fall for that?"

"And, and what was that really ridiculous thing she did two years back? Oh! Sneaking into the Gryffie boys' dorm during a party just to get a closer look at the brooms."

"I haven't done any of that recently," Rona said indignantly. "And I do a lot more with stuff that isn't quite so morally questionable. You know, like giving tips."

"Point is, Rona," Hannah continued, "If no one knows you've done all these things yet, what's the harm in letting yourself be known? They're not going to notice afterward either."

"It's not like I've had the opportunity to. What, I'm going to say, yes that's me, responsible for the past two years of _losing_. It's nothing to be proud of." The last time they won the cup, it was the first year Rona began helping the team and that was because Corny Quint was still captain. When Roger took over, most of the team consisted of new players, and they struggled to regain their past glory.

Penny continued to persist. "But losing is mostly Roger's fault. And you have to admit, he's improved and that's partly because of your help. That _is_ something to be proud of. Stop avoiding it if you're just afraid of messing up."

"I will not when everyone can see it!"

No matter whose fault it was for an awful season, people looked to the captains to blame, and she was practically co-captaining. Rona wasn't one who welcomed criticism, especially when it was prompted by things that simply didn't go her way. The little annoyances that would end up multiplying didn't help either. She didn't need to meet any more Olivers.

Before she could respond, Edie, who had been hugging her pillow on the other side of the room, finally piped up. "But Rona, secret aside... what _did_ Oliver ask and what are you going to make him do?"

Rona replayed the conversation in her head. "He knows she's in our year. Er, he. As for what I'm making him do, well..." She trailed off into her own train of thought before shrugging. "Maybe I'll just — "

"Humiliate him."

"No, use him."

"Snog him."

All eyes turned to Hannah with incredulous looks. "What?" she said. "Just because a bloke is stupid, doesn't mean he can't be stupid _and_ hot." She crossed her arms defiantly. "He's a fit bloke. Besides, I heard he made a girl swoon with a single look."

"That's hogwash and you know it," Rona said. The memory of how he pulled her close, however, made her flinch.

"Denying that you've been swept off your feet?" She provided gratuitous hand gestures, putting her hand to her forehead and falling back onto her pillow.

"Now_ that's _hogwash," said Penny. "She'd rather kiss a book. The only way Rona will ever be swept off her feet is with a broomstick."

"Easy enough for Wood. I hear he has a very _large_ broomstick," said Hannah. The sound of faces-hitting-pillows filled the room as everyone tried to muffle their laughter and groans.

Penny was still chortling, when she halted with a muttered, "Honestly, a broomstick comeback?"

"Oh Miss Prefect, you love it."

"I have no idea what I'd do without you three," Edie emerged from her momentary giggle with wide grin. Whatever trouble she had in the evening was forgotten.

Penny shot up. "That reminds me. Edie, you're going to love this. Percy did the most romantic thing today. You're not going to believe it" She took out a crisp cream-colored paper from a box under her bed and began reciting the poem:

_"Gryffindor is red,  
>Ravenclaw is blue,<br>there is nothing greater  
>than love from these two."<em>

Edie was on the verge of breaking into another fit of giggles. "That is so corny!"

"I didn't think he had it in him! He passed it to me in class today!"

"Percy Weasley, _passing notes?_" Hannah squealed. "That's practically like a marriage proposal!"

As the conversation shifted, all four forgot about Oliver Wood. He may have been able to make girls swoon, but bad poetry had him beat every time.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Rona left the tower before the rest of her roommates, book in hand. When Hannah and Edie blinked in confusion at their friend's quick departure, all Penny had to say was, "Don't bother. She's on the last fifty pages of that book."<p>

Nothing could stop Rona from finishing a book once she reached 'the page of no return'.

The Great Hall bustled with breakfast: pastries, yawns and the distinct flurry of activity associated with unfinished homework. Rona sat by their usual seats, gnawing on a bagel, her eyes locked on a page of text. Her friends sat beside her somewhere between chapter twelve and chapter thirteen.

She barely noticed when a sudden quiet blanketed them and the voice that asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Someone slipped into the seat to her right, the proximity interrupting her reading. It always took time for her to adjust from reading to reality, a complex process despite last only mere seconds. Her eyes lost the concentration, once described by Hannah as "getting all wonky like when you turn the lights on and off too much". Then her composure returned and finally the scene in her mind faded away.

Her thoughts whisked past. How long had she been reading? And how did she get distracted? It was next to her, to her right, and much too close. She was just able to place it, vowel then consonant on her tongue. It was —

"Oliver." Rona snapped up and glowered. He had been leaning over her, amused grin in place, trying to read over her shoulder. With Rona's sudden movement, their faces were brought only a hand-width apart.

She stiffened at the unexpected closeness, but remembered that her embarrassment would only entertain Oliver more. "_Don't you know what personal space is?_" she flared.

Instead of replying, Oliver leaned back and let out a laugh. Rona took this time to scoot away. "_How long has he been here?_" she cried, turning to her friends.

They did a dance of shrugs and innocent smiles. Hannah clapped her hands together. "Long enough to be entertaining."

"You are a _very_ testy person," said Oliver. He placed an elbow on the table, leaning casually. "To think I used to mark you as another Ravenclaw bookworm."

Rona heard a muttering of "Are we supposed to take offense to that?" from the other side of the table. She, however, was definitely offended. "There's a lot about me you don't know, Oliver. I'm sure years of classes with you didn't do the trick," she said coolly. "Now get to the point. You seem to have a problem with that as well."

He chuckled, picking up an apple. "I'm just here to ask what sort of awful challenge you're going to throw my way. I'm a gentleman. I keep my promises."

"I don't know it yet." Rona took some jam on her knife and thrust it violently on what remained of her bagel. "What else are you here for?"

"I didn't say — "

"Spit it out."

Oliver blinked. "Well, er, I was actually hoping that you'd give some mercy today. I've scheduled practice for this afternoon. I can't have anything in the way of that, you know?"

"Really, are _you_ in the place to bargain?" She looked up at him wide eyed in pretend disbelief. This was for assuming she was harmless.

His face fell instantly. She had no choice but to break character and laugh. "So gullible. Look _Ollie_, I won't play with you," Rona said reverting back to her normal voice, but losing none of her teasing tone. "I _respect_ a boy who knows a thing or two about Quidditch."

He brightened despite the obvious jab against him. "You'll be merciful, then?"

"I never said anything like that."

And back to a frown. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said innocently. "I just use the same tricks you used."

Oliver's mouth hung open in protest except that he had none.

"You're lucky I'm nice. I'll be merciful." Rona grinned. This was a good day.

"Thank you. That's all the answer I needed," he said, reverting to his usual charming smile and mischievous glint. He stood to leave. "But I'll have you know, I'm not going to let you win anymore."

Before Rona could think of a retort, Jason came up behind Oliver, waving a piece of toast around dangerously. "What do you think you're doing here? Loser's table is that way — eh? Rona?" His arms waved around. "Don't you know it's _Wood?_ You have to be careful, you don't let him — "

"_Jason,_" she snarled ominously, with a glare that could have scared off half of Azkaban.

"What — _oh_." Jason was stupid, but at least quick on the uptake. He cleared his throat and pat her shoulder roughly. "Ahem. Oliver, I'm watching you. Rona here's like a sister to me, you understand? No funny business."

"No funny business intended." Oliver said, raising his hands. He raised a brow at both of them.

"Right. Well. See you later." Jason stuffed the rest of the toast in his mouth as he made a quick departure. He wasn't the only one looking back more than a few times to see what was going on.

Rona sighed. She could always rely on Jason to make a scene when she wanted it least. It was time for damage control. She turned to see Oliver's face right in front of her.

Oh, how _that_ position was going to help.

Oddly enough, it seemed that Oliver was having a similar thought. "Look," he said, keeping his voice low, "As much as I'd love a chance to see you publicly mortified, I can't risk stories running around with me in them."

Rona arched a brow. Talking about _risks_ now?

"But don't worry," he continued, "I'm not letting you off easy. I can see right through your act. _You_, love, have another game on your hands. Thanks for the favor, though." He took a bite of his apple and left with a wink.

Still so very charming, Rona thought, wrinkling her nose. His last words to her were cryptic at best. Perhaps there was more up in his sleeve than she first thought — no.

Mind games.

Upon turning back to the table, she found Penny 'editing' her homework except her quill wasn't touching the paper, Edie stirring her hot chocolate for so long that her marshmallow melted, and Hannah, never one to bother hiding the fact that she liked to eavesdrop, grinning.

"What?"

The three exchanged amused glances. "We all saw that, right?" said Penny.

"Oh definitely," said Hannah. She leaned forward. "Are you absolutely certain you don't want to snog him?"

Rona should have expected this. "I," she began, "am not dignifying that with an answer." She picked up her book, flipping through the pages to find where she left off. "I'll have enough to explain to Roger and the rest of the team once Jason exercises that big mouth of his. I was hoping to keep last night low-key."

Penny crossed her arms. "Explaining to the boys but not us? That's like a violation of the universal girl code. It's traitorous. You're going to be in for one hell of a questioning tonight, you know that?"

"I thought nothing happened between you and Oliver," Edie said, finally taking a sip of her drink.

"Nothing did. Now really. Last. Twenty. Pages." Rona jabbed her book for emphasis. "Let me be, and you'll get an answer. I'm teaching you all a valuable lesson in patience." Her eyes dropped to the text.

They grumbled, but her friends soon fell into defeated silence. Hannah huffed, "She stopped reading for _Oliver._"

Unfortunately, Rona didn't even finish the page before she heard Penny say, "Roger don't — " and a hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Switt! Jason told me — "

"Lower your voice." Rona gritted at the anxious captain. A brief glance to the Gryffindor table told her that fortunately, Oliver didn't turn around. "Merlin, does _no one_ honor the sanctity of letting me read the last bloody pages of a book anymore?"

Roger followed her glance. "What the hell is going on between — "

"_Nothing_. You have no idea how many things have been misconstrued and — you know what Roger, I was going to explain later to the team — "

"No, you're explaining now." He lowered his voice again. They were drawing an audience. "Look, you know the danger of Wood knowing. Remember last season, he found out who our reserves were and made a whole plan out of that? Or how he reportedly keeps a record of the strengths and weaknesses of each player? He's a _machine_; I have no idea how he can do all that, but he can and he does."

Rona snorted. Roger seemed to be keeping a record himself. "He's not a threat. I don't care if he's the next bloody Quidditch legend — he doesn't know who's he dealing with." She briefly considered her wrath as a bookworm (which Oliver had so passingly insulting), armed with paper cuts and a large vocabulary. "He's _my_ problem and_ I'll_ handle it. It's nothing to worry about. I know how to take care of myself, Roger."

"Don't underestimate him."

"Roger, back off," called Jeremy from down the table. He swung his legs over the bench and walked over. He always intervened when the idiocy level got too high for her tolerance. "I personally can't believe you'd really believe anything _Jason_ would say."

Roger added to the abundance of mouths hanging open that day. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Fine. But I'll be asking for that explanation. Have a good morning." He turned and left abruptly, posture as stiff as his gelled hair.

"How can you stand him?" Bits of hot chocolate flung across the table as Edie waved her spoon around. "So uptight."

"Who even knows?" Rona put her book down to the side, giving up any hope of finishing it before breakfast was over. "Frankly I don't understand how you can stand your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I love my brother." Edie looked honestly confused, but that was how she was, unwavering love and patience — except when it ran out.

Meanwhile, Jeremy brushed off the crumbs on the seat next to Rona and joined them. "Have you started looking for job openings yet?" he asked.

"Oh... _that._" Rona mumbled as she occupied her mouth with her glass of pumpkin juice. She had been procrastinating on settling her plans for after Hogwarts.

Penny shook her head. "She doesn't want to face that's she has a lifetime of inhaling dust and de-hexing books of the Restricted section as a cranky librarian."

Rona gulped down the juice. "Oi, I'd_ like_ the job."

"Yes, but you'll_ like_ it because it'll put galleons in your pocket."

Jeremy swiped her glass, taking a swig for himself. "I'm sending in my applications to the professional leagues today. Are you sure you don't want to try, too?"

Rona drew in a long breath. "It's not going to matter." As highly as she thought of herself, she wasn't delusional enough to think that she would be able to aspire to a coaching position.

"You're just lazy," he said, jabbing her in the side.

"And you don't know what Runes has been like lately," she muttered. "We're behind the syllabus and we've had to rush through the last three sections."

"You know, this is why I suggest you all follow me to the other girls' dorm parties," interjected Hannah. "You've got to loosen up. We're all smart Ravens, but it's not going to matter we're going to die from deprivation of fun. Well... Oliver will be good for you." She waggled her brows. "My experience with those vocal blokes like him are that they are _quite_ good at maneuvering their hands at — "

Hannah was interrupted as Jeremy choked on his food with a squeak and pulled at his collar. "I... think I'll head back now," he said, grabbing another croissant, leaving in a deep shade of scarlet.

"I scared him away, didn't I?" Hannah pouted.

Edie patted her hand. "You always do."

"Speaking of Oliver though," said Penny, "Roger has a point. You _are _underestimating him. I know you think he's just another annoying good-looking git, but this is the bloke who's behind the Gryffindor team. He's _their_ strategist. From the looks of the past seasons, a good one, too."

It was true. Oliver used to be simply another opponent to her, just another figure to place in the imaginary Quidditch pitch.

But even though Penny was right, Rona's pride shoved common sense aside, gave it a good kicking, and spoke for her. "And he's underestimating _me_. I have one free favor. I can make him suffer."

"But you won't," Penny countered. "You're a big talker, but you're not a sadist."

Rona's mouth hung open. "You know, I said something like that to him just yesterday — "

"We're your friends. You're supposed to be predictable like that." Penny slung her bag over her shoulder. "Now let's get to class. We're going to be late. ...and you know I'm right."

She didn't even have to go _Silencio_ for Rona to shut up


	4. Well, That Was Unexpected

Rona finally finished her book during the lulls of Professor Sprout's Herbology lecture. When the class was finally over, she rushed out first. Roger was waiting, and he was more impatient than she was. A commendable feat.

By the time she arrived on the pitch, practice was already midway. They were testing out different formations that day, and she could hear Roger yelling directions as he circled the field.

The numbers and visuals began turning gears. Randolph and Jeremy were too spread apart. Duncan needed to be closer to the chasers to protect them. He was the one with the quick eye. Grant was too far from the goals; had that boy ever heard of an attention span? A strong flyer like Jason should have been further out...

The seven players landed, her cue to get their attention. "Sorry I'm late! Sprout kept us in and — "

Before she could finish her sentence, Jason flung his broom on the ground and ran up to her, shaking her by the shoulders, eyes desperate. "_Tell_ me you haven't been snogging Wood."

"What, _no!_ Didn't Roger tell you nothing was going on and — _stop that!_" Rona tried to push him off her arm with no avail. She smacked him on the side of his head, and he finally stopped shaking her, though he clung like a possum. "I don't know what you've been telling people — in fact, you shouldn't be telling people anything of any sort at all — but I just have a... a _game_ with Oliver you could say." She had no other name for what transpired the previous night.

"And this game," he said, eyes still full of desperation, "has nothing to do with snogging."

"Not unless I want it to."

His eyes widened, the white now visible all around his pupil.

She groaned. "I don't_ want _it to and I don't _plan_ to want it to. Is every girl in Hogwarts supposed to want to snog Wood?"

He simply blinked in response, fingers digging a little deeper into her coat sleeve. Finally, Jeremy strode over and pried him away from her. With a wave of his hand, he beckoned her to continue.

"Thanks," she muttered. She scanned around at the team, who stood around blowing at their hair or staring at some thrilling scene beside their feet. Roger — no surprise — was fully attentive with squinting eyes that did not move away from her.

"Long story short," she began a sigh, "Oliver thinks I know the identity of whoever's feeding you lot strategies and in exchange for hints,_ just hints_, of who it is, I'm making him do... favors," Glancing at Jason's eyes which were ready to pop out any moment, she added, "And not _sexual favors_. Look, it's good and bad news. Good news is, Oliver doesn't know it's me yet. Thrown off track, actually."

"Bad news?" Roger asked with his usual all-business mindset.

"So he'll find out it's me eventually, so what?" she said, challenging him with a glare. "He would've found out anyway and at least this way, we get a little fun tormenting him. How much can he learn about us anyhow? And_ besides_ — " She crossed her arms " — I came to help this team by my own accord. I can't keep spying forever. I haven't been to any of the other teams' practices this year, and we've done pretty well anyway. And maybe I want to go out with a bang and a little recognition for once. So I'll be responsible for this, thank you very much!"

There was a silence. When it became a little more than awkward, Randolph cleared his throat. "I agree."

Roger was in his thinking-stance — hands behind his back, eyebrows locked together, chin tilted ever so slightly. "Well, I don't particularly like it, but I can see your point. It is your last year — " Roger always sounded like he was in charge of everyone; Rona chose to ignore this. " — but I still advise you to be careful. He's the enemy, after all, but I know you're smarter than that. Now," he said, seamlessly transitioning the conversation, "lets get some plays down."

Jason, however, was stuck in his own thinking-stance, except Rona knew there was never a worthwhile thought running through his head. He raised his hand. "But wait Rona, when you say Oliver owes you favors, is it _any _sort of favor?"

"Er, I suppose." Rona scratched her head. She had not considered was going to make him do outside of the mundane. Penny was right that she was a big talker, unfortunately. Her form of torture was just the verbal kind. "Maybe I'd just make him run some errands or something."

"But that'd be such a waste!" Jason cried, thrusting his hands out for effect. "Think about it, you could make him do… anything!" That comment seemed to make nearly everyone else go into a thinking-stance. A murmur of agreement and nods followed.

"The things I'd like to see Wood do in public one day…"

After hearing something from Jason that sounded like 'pink knickers', Rona buried her head in her hands. "I don't know what's wrong with you lot, but I'm the only one who actually has a reason to be pissed at him and_ I'm _the merciful one?"

"Oi," said Roger, finally stepping in to restore some order, "It's almost the holidays, and I'd like to get some good strategies down."

Rona was grateful for the subject change, even though she knew from the shuffling and restlessness from the others that their minds were elsewhere. "Six weeks until the Slytherin match, is it? We'll have some work to do. Last game... problems with the last game… Cho. Nice work on your speed, but high-speed dives. They come in handy and you're too hesitant. Be more gutsy about them. And Roger, stop looking at everyone so much. Trust them to play well enough. Randolph — " She saw him shrink back an inch, and she grinned. " — you already got a good beating, but otherwise, good game. And Duncan, about your — _crud _is that the Gryffie team?"

Two redheads exited the castle's side entrance. Following them was a girl who unquestionably resembled one of the Gryffindor chasers.

"I don't recall seeing them on the schedule," said Jeremy, glancing over at the same direction.

"Oliver's going to get suspicious if he sees me here with you guys," Rona reached inside her coat pocket and shoved the two sheets of folded paper from it into Roger's face. "Here. These are the notes I wrote after the game and yes — those _are _snide insults to your Chasing abilities in the margin."

"Ha-ha." Roger snatched it from her hand.

"Notes on Flint and Montague on the bottom, and I've got a couple suggestions for new plays, and — _Merlin-I-need-to-hide_." Her words rushed together as the Gryffindor team approaching ever closer at the corner of her vision.

Rona gave up any chance of escape and decided to use the 'I-was-just-here-reading' approach that Penny so belittled. She rushed up the stands, laid down on the bench, took out the first book she could find, and pretended to read. Tilting her head, she could see the team take flight once more, a scrap of paper fluttering in Roger's grip. The group of Gryffindors were on the pitch below, chattering all the way to the locker rooms.

She glanced back at the page. Though she had already read the book, it was open to a particularly interesting passage, and she was quickly engrossed, forgetting all about time and where she was.

"Switt."

The mention of her name — and especially when she realized the owner of said voice — made Rona jolt upright, except her position made her lose balance. She slid off the bench, her arms waving about wildly, trying to find anything solid. After landing with a thump onto the next bench, her book followed, landing neatly onto her face.

Hearing his soft chuckle, she wasn't sure if she wanted to lift the cover of her book and face him. _Rona Switt, _she scolded herself,_ you are not going to lay here on the dirty ground and sulk. You're going to get up with all the dignity you have left and point a finger at him and curse him. _

Grasping for a handhold, she pulled herself up, book sliding to her lap. She smoothed her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. A hand appeared in front of her.

"Need help?" Oliver was leaning against his broom, one arm extended, and grinning, _of course_.

"Thanks, but no thanks." She stood, grabbing her book before it fell. Now what was the part before the cursing and after the dignity?

"So fess up, what are you doing here? I'm about to start practice." He gestured behind him toward the other players. A few waved.

"The next chapter of _Two Wyverns _waits for no one, Oliver. At least until you interrupted."

"Bollocks!" He grabbed the aforementioned novel from her hands, flipping through the pages as if she hid something inside. "I'm not stupid, despite what you think of me, Switt. If you know the Strategist, you may be very well feeding him information."

She wrenched her book back from his grimy hands. "There are other people in the stands too."

He rolled his eyes, his stance more impatient by the second. "They're all in the corners snogging, of course I'm not paying attention to them."

She couldn't resist. "Is this where you insert one of your clever jokes about snogging me?"

"No, this is where I want you to get out of here!" He pointed his broom toward the castle.

"And what was with all that sneaky business before?" she continued, rapid-fire, "You can see through my act, _love_. You have another game on your hands, _love. My_ act? What about your whole lady-killer act?"

"Hardly a lady-killer act..." His teammates, who were now all clearly listening, offered a collection of disbelieving snorts.

"Like you don't lead them unsuspecting into dark hallways and suggest snogging them to death as a godsend to them?" she scoffed. "Check your facts Oliver. Your story's full of holes larger than your ego."

"What about _you_?" He asked in the same tone. He stepped another pace closer. "The whole bit with Jason saying be careful and all that? You aren't so innocent either, missy."

Rona quirked an eyebrow. What did he mean?

"Give it up, Wood," George shouted. "It's just one girl. You can't expect a flawless record."

"You aren't helping, George," Oliver gritted through his teeth.

"I disagree — "

"Shush," said Katie, "Let them argue. I don't feel like practicing today."

"Of course I'm helping." He proceeded to hang upside down on his broom. "Rona, what's your deal with Wood, eh? He hit a nerve? You have to excuse him, he's not good 'round the ladies like I am. If necessary, Fred and I will provide our services to dispose of him."

In that one split second when she about to respond, an idea lit up. That bloody brilliant game of theirs. If she didn't have the will to humiliate Oliver, there were others dying to do the job for her. She switched her attention from Oliver to George. "Actually, I was wondering if you were interested in buying something."

George sat upright. "Buying something?"

Fred picked up the next question. "Like what?"

"Yea, like what?" echoed Oliver, who began eying her more suspiciously than ever.

"What if I said you could buy Oliver for ten minutes? Make him do whatever you want?"

"_What?_" everyone chorused, with an especially loud one from the intended victim. It was the twins' chance to puppeteer the bloke who scheduled all their practices and made them fly all those laps. Rona knew that whatever consequences would be worth it for them.

"I'd say I'd pay three galleons to see something like that!" shouted George, the first to recover from the disbelief.

Fred whipped around. "We've got three galleons?"

"We'll sell front row seats!"

"Now there's a business proposition!" Fred grinned. "But not to doubt a lady..." He scrutinized Rona. "I don't think you can deliver."

"It's a deal and_ trust me_ — " Rona dared to wink at Oliver, who stared back sourly. "— I can deliver. You can pay me after. The ten minutes are valid anytime, anywhere." She moved to leave the stands, but Oliver grabbed her arm.

"You can't do this!"

"I can and I _will_." She took her arm back roughly. "I'm not being unreasonable at all with this favor. I'm leaving you to the _mercy of your own teammate. _You're a gentleman who keeps his promises, right?" She threw a smile toward the twins' direction, who was completely unaware of her poisonous tone toward Oliver, before turning back to him. "Can't wait for the next question."

"What's this all about? Just because of yesterday, you're going to make my life hell?"

"Sums it up. Take it as a warning. If you mess with me, I bite back."

"Are you just trying to prove that you're better? Make everything into a competition?"

Rona couldn't believe what she was hearing. _He_ was the one who was pushing her buttons all the time — last night, breakfast, now. "_Like you don't do the same!_"

"There's a big bleedin' difference!" He clenched his Cleansweep with a white-knuckled grip. "I'm not _selling you!_"

"Because trying to _seduce information out of me_ is any better?" She could take all their previous interactions in good fun, but_ this_ was not going to get past her. "I'm just taking what you promised me in the first place. Anything, Oliver. I can ask for _anything_. You came to me. Those were the terms. That's competitive? No, I think that's_ fair_."

Rona thought that perhaps she finally taught him a lesson as he stepped back, his brows knitted in confusion, but his next words proved otherwise. "Is this what all you Ravenclaws are like? You shouldn't be drilling me on what's fair or not."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you don't already know, there's no point in telling you," he scoffed, turning away.

As much as Rona had wanted to leave, she wanted answers more. She grabbed his sleeve. "Don't you _dare_ give some snide insinuation without reason."

Oliver lifted her hand from his arm and flung it away. His spun around, narrowed gaze steady on hers. "I have a reason," he spat, leaning in close. She was too stubborn to retreat even as his hot breath came close to hers. "You're a smart girl. Figure. It. Out."

Her heart thudded in her ears. She had never seen him so serious.

Oliver pulled back and stomped down onto the next level of benches with a surprising force. He was in position to take flight, but paused to address her again, head cocked to the side. "You know what, just to show you, I _will_ keep my promise. Sell me to Fred and George. See if I care."

He took to the sky, leaving Rona still rooted to the floor with unanswered questions. But one urgent theory stuck to her mind.

She was no coincidental target.

* * *

><p>As dinner wound down, students began returning to their respective common rooms. Rona was in the middle of explaining the Oliver situation fully to Penny, Edie, and Hannah, as promised. She had yet to fully divulge her confusing afternoon when they turned the corner and a mad, cackling laughter filled the hall. A red streak of hair shot out in front of her and the blur turned into George, who pressed galleons into her palm.<p>

"Totally…worth it," was all he could breathe out. His eyes flicked back and he continued pushing through the crowd. In his wake, he shouted, "_Oh blimey_ — so worth it!"

The four stood amidst the confusion as students slowed to watch what seemed to be another one of the twins' pranks in progress. All was explained when a shout of "_WEASLEY!_" roared through the hallway, followed by Oliver's entrance.

Disheveled didn't begin to explain him. He was in the process of removing a pink scrunchie that hung off one of his ears and wiping his lipstick-scrawled cheeks. A sign fluttered on his back, which upon closer inspection read 'I snog broomsticks'. Every step he took was accompanied by a squeak and a squick from his shoes. It was left to the imagination as to what else he had to endure.

"_WEAS — _" His voice dropped to a snarl. "Better yet, _Switt_."

Rona doubled over in laughter, never expecting her plan to be this successful. Whatever insinuations Oliver made of her were irrelevant; he was a bloody Christmas tree. He was stopped in front of he, but she still couldn't form words seeing his ridiculous attire up close.

"George… ran down… the hall," Hannah said, still gasping for breath.

"I'm not looking for George anymore," he replied, eyes locked on Rona. He stepped closer, now barely a foot away. When she tried to draw back, he grabbed her by the shoulders. "I hear you like gossip, Switt."

And before she knew it, he pressed his lips against hers.

In reality, there would be no time for Rona to dissect the anatomy of a kiss, but time slowed down enough for her to feel every sensation. His lips were the least important one, although he certainly knew what he was doing with them. She felt the eyes of onlookers bore into her body, the shock from her friends, and the twitch in her stomach of a girl who had never been kissed before. She tried to draw back, but it was useless against his grip. This wasn't romance. It was revenge in the works.

The worst feeling of all was the thought in the back of her mind, the 'stupid, girly part I keep locked away' as she called it. The part of her that knew she was pressed against him and thought _Merlin, he must work out._ It was followed by her common sense, which said _He plays Quidditch, you idiot_ and then finally followed by reality, which tapped her on the shoulder and reminded her, _He's, uh, still kissing you._

Just as she was about to shove him, he pulled away, flinging the scrunchie at her. "If there's anything I've learned about you, your worst nightmare's going to rear its ugly head by tomorrow morning. Try acting your way out of this one." He smirked and took his chance to dart past her, continuing his yell of "Weasley, get back here!"

The hubbub cleared and activity resumed as the spectacle disappeared around the corner. The whispers and chatter of girls took prominence and they were clearly about Rona, much to her dismay. The other three stood in silence, trying to process what just happened. Edie was the first to speak.

"Well, that was unexpected."


	5. Spare the Guilt, Spoil the Captain

The trek to the Ravenclaw tower may as well have been a . Rona was ready to maul something — the more, the merrier. Public humiliation from an enemy followed by not having the delicious satisfaction of slapping said enemy was simply not acceptable.

They held their breath as they scurried up the staircase to the girl's dorm. As Edie shut the door behind her, they released a collective exhale.

"I mean, he has ulterior motives — "

"Merlin's saggy left — "

"I cannot believe I just saw that — "

" — and he looked ridiculous — "

" — and… I still can't believe it!"

" — but that was _hot._"

"That _bastard_!" Rona's voice shook the room. Heads turned and mouths snapped shut. She stood by the doorway, fists clenched. "I'm going to… hurt him. A lot!" She couldn't withhold the flush coming to her cheeks. "And… and in the most _excruciatingly torturous way possible!_"

Grins came to all. It meant only one thing: Oliver was certainly a prat, but it was a damned good snog.

"You forget the entire female population of Hogwarts will go after you if you do that," Penny said dryly, putting a hand on Rona's shoulder. "But if you need help on the torture part, you can sell him to George for a full half hour and see what happens."

"It can't have been that bad, even publicly," Hannah piped in. "Apart from, you know, who you were kissing."

"I'm not _you_, Hannah," Rona grumbled. Admittedly, she was acting angrier than she really was, ashamed of feeling anything but such for the kiss.

It apparently showed on her face because the next words out of Hannah's mouth were, "I knew it!" The redhead nearly jumped off her bed. A bodice-ripping story was already forming on her lips.

"Merlin _no!_ It's…" She unclenched her fists, her fingers wandered aimlessly in the air, trying to grasp at an explanation. "I... can't really say because I don't have anything to compare it to."

Silence.

"You've… never been kissed before?" Penny asked with evident disbelief. "What about Leon during fourth year?"

She remembered that disasterous date in Madam Puddifoot's. "On the cheek. _Almost._"

Edie offered her guess. "Michael?"

"That _one_ date? I ditched him halfway through. Hannah made that part up." Rona shook her head. "Trust me, I've had a lot of close calls, but never the actual… you know, lips mashing together part."

Hannah smiled sheepishly. "Well…at least your friends didn't think you were a prude. 'Til now."

Rona stuck out her tongue. "But it's worse than that. I haven't even told you about what an utter arse he was this afternoon," she said, anger bubbling again. "Sodding hypocrite, like he doesn't even realize what pig moves he does, and _I'm _the unreasonable one selling him to the Weasleys? What's next — he's going to accuse me of falling on his face in the middle of the hallway and it's going to be my fault again?"

"_I_ wouldn't mind falling on his face — "

"Edie!" A muffled shout came from the door followed by rapid knocking. "Your brother…. explosion… it's _everywhere!_"

"Oh not again." Edie groaned. Right next to pancake breakfasts and misplacing homework, _explosions_ were a common occurrence in Edie's life. "Tell me if I miss anything important," she said and flew out the door.

Meanwhile, the source of the shout, fourth year Lydia, now stood by the doorway looking quite out of place, twirling a strand of hair. When Rona met her eyes, she beamed. "I just remembered! Congratulations! I heard about you and Oliver."

"Already?" Rona moaned. Lydia's smile dropped instantly.

Penny's brows furrowed. "From who?"

"I… I heard some other girls talking about it," she stuttered, wide-eyed. "Is there something wrong?"

"_That git is going down,_" Rona snarled, fists slamming down onto the bed.

Lydia jumped back, visibly trembling in fear. She muttered something about someone calling her downstairs and fled before finishing her excuse.

Penny gave Rona a pointed glare. "Oliver kissing you is no excuse to give nightmares to children."

Hannah flopped down on Rona's bed, patting her on the knee. "It can't be_ that_ bad…" she said, quoting the line every friend said when things were absolutely hopeless.

Rona didn't even bother to glare at her. She glared at the ceiling. At least she knew who to tell Jason and Duncan to aim for at the Gryffindor game.

Bollocks. _The team._

"I need to tell Roger before he throws a fit." She pulled herself up and trudged toward the door despite the reluctance in her bones, wishing for someone to explain how her love life turned into a House-wide emergency.

Upon reaching the common room, Rona scanned the room for anyone from the team. Jeremy and Roger were doing homework while Jason and Randolph had a train wreck attempt to woo in session. Before she could call them, a jar of golden-yellow liquid was immediately shoved into her line of vision.

Edie was behind it, her brother's ear in her other hand. "Can you do me a favor and get rid of this?" she asked.

"Your brother or the jar?"

"Just the jar, unfortunately. Now come on, Nick," she said, sugary sweet, tugging him toward a different part of the room. Edie was the nicest girl Rona knew, and yet she could always instill fear in her brother with the most threatening brand of sisterly love ever found in Hogwarts.

Rona tapped the glass curiously and twisted the lid one turn, fearing the questionable liquid. Thankfully, the aroma that wafted out was definitely butterbeer. Heavy, she set it down on a table and then remembered what she was down there for.

Turning back to the boys, she signaled to them discreetly to follow her outside — though from her experience that day, discreet was perhaps too much to ask for. The tower's stairway landing was deserted, at least until the four boys squeezed into the space beside her. They had walked over to her composed, but as soon as the door swung closed, Jason tackled her.

"I thought you said this game of yours had nothing to do with snogging!"

"It. Does. Not," she hissed, shoving him off. "Will you _shush?_"

Meanwhile, Roger began with his reproachful tsk-tsk. "Associating with the enemy…"

"Just let me explain," Rona said, leaning back against the railing, "I have enough frustration to fill out the entire Quidditch season right now. To make things brief, he kissed _me_, and he did it for revenge."

She was met with skeptical looks.

"I have _no_ idea how that connects, or how his brain works, but that's the reason."

Randolph averted his eyes. "If you fancy him, Rona, we could understand…" It was a hit-or-miss statement, and it was clear he struck out. The other boys groaned.

Jason placed a hand on Randolph's shoulder. "Have you got a death wish or something?"

Jeremy snorted. "I don't think it matters. Now it's only a matter of _how_ she's going to kill him."

Jason rubbed his chin. "I've always marked her as a torture sort of person."

"Really?" Roger joined in. "I know she always talks about torture, but I'd think she'd like to get things done quick. Shove 'em out a tower."

"Can't be messy though."

"Of course."

Rona cleared her throat. Three heads turned. "I'd love to stay and watch you all discuss me murdering Randolph, but I'm knackered. I've said all I wanted to say, so people like _Roger_ — " He glanced away. " — don't make a big fuss about it in the morning."

Jason offered the only support he could. "Don't worry. I'm sure no one cares by tomorrow."

"Clearly, you have no idea how the female mind works," she scoffed.

No one argued.

She paced around. "Gossip will spread. I don't even want to _think_ about Oliver Wood ever again. Honestly, how can he cause so many problems?" She sighed and turned to the bronze knocker, which promptly shot her a query.

"Hard of heart, cut from life. Of the hearth, I hold the light. What am I?"

This was going to be a long week. "Wood."

The door swung open.

As they filtered back into the common room, Jeremy tapped Rona on the shoulder. "Want to talk about it?"

In her years growing up, Jeremy had been her occasional confidante whenever she needed a male point of view. She waited until the others were out of earshot. "It was my first kiss, you know," she said absently.

"Eh, those things are overrated." He shrugged. "Maybe he did it 'cause he knows it matters to a girl."

"Well I don't care that much, and it's not like he'd know it was my first anyway. But still..." she sighed.

He nudged her. "Did you like it at least?"

Rona hesitated, which was an answer enough. "Only in a completely technical sense," she said, turning red as she saw his amusement. "Ugh, Merlin, I feel like I just betrayed myself or something. Why are the cute ones such tossers?"

"I take offense to that," he smirked.

She laughed and shook her head. "Whatever. I don't know what his intentions are, but by the time I'm through with him, his boggart will be me."

They exchanged goodbyes, and Rona resumed a night of studying Runes and as little Oliver as possible.

* * *

><p><em>"…can't…get…stain…out…"<em> Edie tapped her wand furiously at the splotchy stain on her blouse.

It was the morning rush in the seventh year dorm, when they scrambled to brush their teeth, fill up their schoolbags, and collectively make the room look as if hippogriff charged through it. Rona jumped around trying to put on socks while nudging Hannah to the side, fighting for a look in the mirror. She wasn't one to try much in making herself look nice, but like every other girl who denied caring about their appearance, she had something they were self-conscious about. For her, it was her hair, which Hannah once stated as her "last claim to femininity".

Penny beckoned to Edie. "Give it here." She took the blouse in her hands and examined the stain. "Butterbeer?"

"All over the broom closet. I would've been happier if I found Nick snogging some girl there, you know, at least have a healthy social life, but no — " She shook her head. " — he was making butterbeer."

"_Making_ it? Why? It's not that hard to come by at school if you know the right people." Penny tapped her wand at the stain with one quick swipe. "_Tergio!_" She handed the stain-free blouse back to Edie, ignoring Rona and Hannah's sudden interest in the conversation.

"You will be, uh, _sharing_ this information right?" said Hannah, with all the subtlety of an eager five-year-old.

"Nice try." Penny slipped in the last few clips into her hair and headed for the doorway. "Now I've got to go. I told Percy I'd be downstairs ten minutes ago. Someone save me a muffin or toast or something."

"Oh! Wait up!" Edie ran after her, still trying to stuff her feet into her shoes. "I've got to go check on my brother again. Heard another little plot cooking up this morning…"

"Such a rush, Penny," Hannah said as she strode out of the bathroom. "I'm making Howie wait as long as I want."

"Howie?" Penny raised an eyebrow at the mention of Hannah's newest arm candy.

"As in Hot Howie."

"That boy doesn't deserve any sort of alliteration."

Hannah rolled her eyes, continuing to take her time to pack up her things. "He's not so bad. 'sides, he asked me out for a Hogsmeade date next weekend. Even if he's a nutter, I still get one free meal." She was a girl with her priorities in order.

"Fine." Penny tapped her foot impatiently. "Can we just go now?"

Rona swung her bag over her shoulder, running her hand through her books to make sure she had the ones she needed. A lot of books for a lot of stress. And then it hit her. All of her friends had some place to go.

"None of you are going to breakfast?" she said, the panic already slipping into her voice.

The response consisted of blank stares.

"You're leaving me alone to a ruthless crowd of girls?" The stares remained woefully apathetic. Her voice rose to a near-shrill. "What if Oliver tries to make another scene again?"

"Enjoy it while it lasts?" Hannah grinned.

And so, Rona soon found herself walking down the hallway to the Great Hall alone. There were promises of "It'll only take me fifteen minutes _tops_." But she knew fifteen minutes never meant fifteen minutes. At first, she thought that maybe she overreacted, but then she hit throngs of Gryffindor girls, whose penchant for rumors was right there next to being courageous and daring.

_"You heard? Well 'course, everyone has. A girl like her…"_

_"And fitty Oliver Wood! I know! And right after that whole bit with Fred and George."_

_"Absolutely bonkers, pigeons and all. Think he lost a bet?" _

_"Makes sense. Oliver and a Ravenclaw? It's not going to happen otherwise. Oh... that's her."_

Rona continued to walk as if she heard nothing, but she couldn't help tabulate the school's impression of her. She couldn't believe she was actually hearing that she wasn't _good enough_ for Oliver. But there was nothing she could do; the tide of rumors didn't stop for one girl, and each piece of gossip slammed the words "You're a _nobody_" in her face.

Oliver's revenge arrived at last.

As if it were a test of her sanity, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain waltzed through archway to the Great Hall. When their eyes met, it was like as if the winter outside gusted into the hallway and every person's lips froze in anticipation.

Rona kept her head held high and walked without a glance toward him. _Let me go by. Leave me be,_ she thought furiously.

Just as she nearly got all the way past him and his smirk, he tugged her arm, swinging her around to face him. "Where do you think you're going?" The twinkle in his eye used to enamor mocked her. A silent _'Ooooh'_ pulsed through the crowd.

"In case you haven't noticed, I do eat, Oliver. You're in my way," she uttered frostily.

He stepped closer. She stepped back. "I can be in your way more often if you like."

"You know what? Never mind. I don't need to eat." Rona turned but she found a hand on her shoulder. This time, she wasn't going to play soft. _Want to play with rumors, Ollie?_ She whirled around, drawing her wand, and pointed it at his throat. "If you can't figure out when a girl's not interested then you deserve to be at the end of this wand."

'_Ohhhhh_'.

The twinkle disappeared instantly. Rona huffed and resumed her flight, hoping she had settled the situation once and for all, but she knew that someone as stubborn as Oliver was sure to follow her. Her steps clattered back to the hallway she came from, quickening, and no matter how curious she was, she didn't turn her head to see if he was following. She just needed to be _away_.

That was how she ended up on a fourth floor corridor, forehead on the wall, trying _literally_ to knock Oliver Wood out of her head. It was worth the lost brain cells. By the tenth _thwap, _she swore the sounds were getting louder.

Except they were footsteps.

She sighed and turned to face his satisfied smile a few meters away. "You've gotten predictable."

"As have you," he returned. He leaned against the wall, reminiscent of their first meeting. "Nice little show back there."

Nice condescending tone. "Thanks," she said, brandishing a fake smile. "You're lucky, of course. You don't need to _act _to be a prat." She made no sign of her discomfort from his proximity. "I see you still have no perception of personal space."

"Intimidated?"

"You've got nothing but cheap tricks," she spat.

Oliver towered over her with a sickeningly triumph, and she couldn't stand to be shadowed by his arrogance. She tried to brush past, but he blocked the way.

"Having fun? Doesn't feel so brilliant on this end of things, does it?"

There it was again. The accusations. "What _the hell _have you got against me?"

A low mocking laugh emanated from his throat. "You spy for Roger, don't you?"

"Just because of yesterday? Don't make assumptions. It was a coincidence." She tried to push his arm away, but he wouldn't budge.

"Coincidence, _of course_," he scoffed.

She narrowed her eyes, grip tightening around his wrist. "Don't pretend like you know anything about me."

"I know more than you think." He moved closer, his sneer as predatory as ever. "You like to play games, don't you? I'll give you one. Fess up some info about your team and I'll call it even."

Rona pushed to escape more desperately than ever as she saw the makings of a trap before her. "Go ask the Strategist," she hissed, remembering that he still didn't know her identity.

He twisted his arm around, swiftly releasing himself, and now her wrist was the one caught in his. "You know plenty."

"Shove off!"

"_Make me._"

He thought that he had her cornered. That between the choice of fight or flight, she would choose the latter. But no matter how much he thought he knew, he still underestimated her.

With her other hand, Rona gripped her wand and lifted it to his chest. "_Impedimenta!_"

She didn't want to hurt him — she dueled with words, not curses — but her emotions couldn't be controlled, and he slammed back against the opposite wall harder than she intended, rattling the nearby portraits.

She kept her wand pointed at him as he scrambled up, clutching his bruised shoulder. "Shady deal you can't keep, ruin my first kiss in front of the whole school, blatant extortion — all this without even blinking."

Confusion blanketed his face, features loosening. "Your first kiss?"

"Oh because that's the most important thing on my mind right now." She laughed bitterly, her jaw clenched tight. "Never mind that you're bloody ruining my life right now. I'm sorry how_ insignificant_ I am compared to your next Quidditch win!"

"You don't understand — "

"_I'm not finished!_" Her wand jabbed into his chest, making his eyes fly to hers again. "I thought well of you once. A good captain, if nothing else. I never had a problem with _you_. I know tons of blokes worse than _you_. You were just playing around. You thought I wouldn't mind. And for awhile I didn't." She feigned shock. "Oh, the mousy little Ravenclaw has a sense of humor. Surprise, surprise. But you _crossed the line_."

"I'm sorry! And…" He held his hands up, opening his mouth to wordless breaths. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," she spat. "You just want to get rid of me." The anger finally reached its peak, and the fall down drained her of any further retaliation. Tears pricked her eyes and she took her chance to duck away from him and run toward the stairwell.

He called after her but she didn't stop running. She wiped her eyes as soon as she had the chance, calculating the quickest way to her class, hiding in crowds and never looking back. _Never_ look back.

At last, she found a friendly face in Hannah by Flitwick's door, ready for her morning Charms class. Hannah practically jumped on Rona to inspect her eyes. "Where have you been? I was looking for you and — were you crying?"

If there was anything Rona hated more, it was being found crying. She scrambled for an excuse, flashing Hannah a sheepish smile. "As far as Oliver is concerned. Amortentia may be the fastest way to a bloke's heart, but tears… fastest way to his conscience."


	6. In Which Oliver is Sensitive

As the snowfall took a morning break, light broke through the clouds and took the long journey across the school grounds. It singularly shone itself over the Gryffindor tower, right into a window seat where Oliver was attempting to shut his eyes and think. He screwed his eyes shut at the rude welcome and blocked the unexpected brightness with a hand, scowling.

The sun responded by stubbornly staying where it was. He too refused to move but alas; he was on the losing side of the battle. Fiddling with the edge of his sleeve did little to preoccupy him. Then he tried running a hand along the side of the cushion and drumming his fingers on his knee. No matter what, he just wasn't comfortable.

The itch of guilt latched on him, and he couldn't shake it off.

The physical bruises of their last encounter faded quickly, but he had never known such mental torment. Even though the buzz of gossip faded quickly, the memories stayed with him — her tears, her furious words, everything that wasn't supposed to happen.

This whole plot was supposed to be _his_ revenge, damn it.

It didn't help that his team picked up on it. He caught the knowing smirks, the whispers to one another, and not-at-all subtle jabs at him. The day before, George approached him before practice with a grin. "Pranks as courting purposes, eh Wood? You're more sadistic than I thought, and I have to suffer through your practices. I'm glad I helped!"

"He _planned_ it and still couldn't get her!" laughed Alicia as she swooped through the air.

Oliver swung around to glare at her and was promptly beaned by a wayward Bludger.

"Mind on the game, not girls, Wood!" yelled George in a mocking-authoritative tone.

They were having _far _too much fun with his misery.

What made matters worse was that every time he tried to approach Rona, she turned away. It wasn't that simple either; she turned away in a manner that made her look like she was completely oblivious to his existence. Her eyes never shifted to him and she never changed expression, even though it was impossible for her to even know he was approaching.

And it drove him _crazy._

Rona didn't even have the decency to look the least bit angry. She put up a little smile as if nothing was wrong — and if nothing was wrong, Oliver wouldn't have been surprised. She was ruthless. He would have smiled at that. Ruthlessness, like perseverance, should be rewarded when in the name of Quidditch! If only it wasn't him that was getting screwed over by it.

His mistake was lumping her in with Roger. He was so sure she had been dating him and spying for him. Who else would stick to the side of such an insufferable, underhanded prat willingly? Logically, someone equally insufferable and underhanded. But then he discovered the _tiny_ detail of who her first kiss was.

As guilty she still was of spying — he saw her at exactly seventeen of his practices last year, armed with a notebook and binoculars — his revenge had always been irrevocably about Roger, and by extension, Roger's girl. Except now, Roger's girl was a nonexistent manifestation of his imagination.

And thus, instead of a satisfyingly delicious victory, he was laying on scratchy cushions, wallowing in self-condemnation.

Perhaps a walk would clear his head. Certainly better than losing a staring contest with the ceiling. Percy had kicked him out of the dorm and with no more practices until after the holidays, restlessness kicked in. He swiped a mug of cocoa from the Great Hall before walking out into the smooth white landscape, inhaling the brisk air.

Unfortunately, he didn't get to enjoy a single minute to himself before he saw Penny stomping toward him.

"_Oliver Wood!_ Why are you not at Hogsmeade?" she shouted across the courtyard. His almost-good mood went kaput. Oh goody. He was guilty of yet another crime. "I've been looking for you for ages. You're lucky I found you at all."

"Extremely, extremely thankful, I'm sure," he said, taking a sip. Percy's girl was always too nosy for her own good.

"Don't give me your sarcasm," she scoffed, shaking a reprimanding finger well-used in her job as prefect. "I am about to do you the biggest favor of your life. Up for grabs right now is a private talk with Rona."

And so her name leaked into his thoughts again. The offer was so very tempting, but he was far from admitting how guilty he felt to Penny. "It's the last thing I want. Glad to be rid of her," he said, eyes flicking away.

"And yet, you seem to have followed her around quite a bit this past week." Penny shot back. "Just accept it and go apologize."

He was trapped. If he said yes, he would admit guilt and more importantly, he would be at her mercy. If he said no, he could lose his chance indefinitely.

Penny smiled triumphantly after a few moments of silence, taking it as a stubborn version fo saying yes. "She'll be in the alley behind Bitlett's Bookcase in half an hour."

Oliver frowned. It was too easy. "What's the catch?"

"I've seen you going around like a little lost puppy, so I decided to take pity. Plus, Percy's been complaining. You've been _moping_ haven't you?"

He had. His roommates had to suffer through his guilt tantrums, which usually involved flinging things against the wall, repairing them, and then flinging them again.

"You're not usually like this," she continued, "and Rona's not usually like this either. I know about the row you two had, but I also know she's not telling us everything, so just settle it. You're better than what you've shown her, I know that. Apologize — for the sake of all of us, _please_."

He continued to sip at his cocoa, hoping that if he ignored her long enough she would go away, but Penny stood resolutely in front of him.

"You'd be surprised to find how easily she forgives people," she said. "Doesn't take much to fulfill her low expectations in humanity."

_Sip._

"And really, she doesn't hate you."

_Sip._

"Thinks you are _quite_ handsome, actually."

He choked, the cocoa sloshing out to stain the snow instead.

Penny shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "So vain. But whatever gets you to go talk to her." She gave a short wave and started walking back in the direction of Hogsmeade.

Oliver continued to stand there, not the least bit interested in budging from the spot, until Penny turned around thirty paces later and called, "If you don't start walking now, I'm telling Percy to etch scratches into your broom when you're not looking."

And suddenly his feet were willing to move.

Of course, he could see the set-up a kilometer away, smelling as fishy as Mrs. Norris' dinners. Peering in the direction of where Penny headed, he saw two heads pop out momentarily behind a wall. He knew it: a collaboration.

Taking this information and trying to piece together what he could believe, he considered the outcomes. Rona was either there waiting for him, waiting for someone but not knowing it was him, waiting for him but with an ulterior motive, or just not there at all.

Oliver only knew one thing for sure. Girls were utterly _evil._

* * *

><p>If it appeared peculiar that Oliver was standing alone in the middle of Hogsmeade muttering to himself, no one bothered to point it out. He was at the very least, thankful his friends were at the pub and not witnessing this.<p>

Rona was supposedly behind the building in front of him. All he had to do was march forth, swallow his pride, and grovel.

He took two steps forward and three steps back.

It was just one girl. He tried to think about it like Quidditch. _Switt may be coming in for a sneak attack. Bludgers flying. Guilt, carnage everywhere. But just focus on the Quaffle — I mean, the apology. Just — bollocks, this is going nowhere._

At last, he turned the corner and braced for whatever torment he was about to endure. When he opened his eyes, there was no yelling. No curse that sent him flying backwards. There wasn't even a Bludger.

Rona was asleep.

Stepping closer, Oliver could see she didn't look any different than any other day. She wore her defiance proud, even as she dozed away against the shipping crates. Her latest book purchase hung limply from her hands. But she was without menace in fact, she looked like she could crumple with the slightest touch, like a late autumn leaf. That unnerved him more than any other detail.

Something didn't feel quite right, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had never known a moment when she was there and it was quiet. Every one of their conversations led to a row and for good reason: he meant to rile her up. It was all part of his plan.

Plans relied on facts. Observations. Oliver knew this from Quidditch very well. Katie was shoddy at sharp turns, so he never made her do the Horntail Helix. Alicia had a sixth sense for incoming Bludgers, so he gave her riskier moves. Rona couldn't resist a fight, so it made sense to exploit that very weakness. The more he pushed her, the more she pushed back, and the more opportunities to let something slip.

Except Rona wasn't supposed to cry. Up against any half-decent bloke, a crying girl was a game-ender, and unfortunately for Oliver, he was a half-decent bloke.

Oliver stood, still baffled as to how to approach the situation of a sleeping Rona. Finally, he decided to take the most gentlemanly route to leave a good impression — a page from _life's_ strategy book. If he was going to go through with this, he might as well do it right the first time around. He took off his own coat and placed it over her, tucking the corners in to make sure it wouldn't fall.

"Muh room mats put a schleep charm un me didden they?"

Oliver froze. The voice was so quiet and drowsy that he wasn't sure if he had heard it at all, but then he felt the body under the coat move.

Rona lifted an arm to rub her eyes. "Figures. Hannah must've dragged Penny into a plot of hers," she said, her voice still thick with sleep. She shifted around to sit up straight, ignoring the coat that slid into a pile on her lap. "You've got a minute before I'm lucid enough to start yelling at you."

She was already asking for a fight. Oliver bit down on his tongue to stop the retaliation that was ready to leave his lips. He was there for an apology, not to make things worse. "I... just wanted to say I'm sorry," he said.

"Is that it then?" She looked positively bored.

"What, you expect me to grovel?" he shot back instantly. He could a civil conversation with Marcus Flint, if only for thirty seconds, but he couldn't go a dozen words without becoming snippy at her.

"No, I expect you to be a prat. Or at least do something stupid to mess this up somehow." She looked completely serious, but she then tilted her head curiously. "Do you really mean it?"

The anger bubbled out. "Of course I mean it! You think I do this_ for fun? _That guilt is a such a _wonderful_ addition to my day?"

Rona sat up straighter, training a careful eye on him before turning away. "I almost feel sorry for you," she said, disgustingly nonchalant. "I was really only pretending to cry."

He gaped at her. All that guilt, all the torture from his team and himself — for nothing? "What the _hell_ is wrong with you that you would — "

She faced him with a full-force glare. "Doesn't feel so nice being manipulated, does it?"

It was a cheap shot, but it hit him hard. "So my apology means nothing to you?" he spat. He was going to explain his mistake in wrongly targeting her, but now he wasn't so inclined toward any charitable gestures.

Rona stood up, her eyes never leaving his. "It means nothing if it's empty."

He stepped forward, the distance between but a breath. "I'll say it again: I felt. Bloody. Guilty. _But I'll take it back. _You didn't even cry. Why do you care?"

Rona cracked for a second — a bite on her lip, a shiver of her brow — so fleeting that if Oliver wasn't looking right at her, he would've missed it. "Just playing your games."

The flinch should have been doomed as a lost expression, one forgotten in the anger and tussle, but it would not budge from Oliver's memory. She almost looked... hurt? The longer he stared back at her, the more sure he was that there was something wrong.

The pieces collided together. Her eyes, straining to stay wide open. The watering corners. Her flushing cheeks. He uttered, strangely soft in their heated argument, "You didn't fake it."

Her gaze wavered again, turning to the ground, and a hand flew up toward her face. She glared at him again, but she had already given herself away.

For the second time that day, it was quiet.

Dread and reluctance befell Oliver, but there she was, so fragile-looking like she had been when she was asleep. "Rona... I'm sorry. I... It's — this, I er, um," he ended with a stutter. It was far more difficult to apologize when she looked so _scared_. He used to be able to push the boundaries of decent conduct when he assumed she didn't care, but she did.

Finally, she said faintly, "It was humiliating,"

She stiffened under his touch as he took her hand. He managed a smile that he hoped didn't look more like a grimace. "Truce, yeah? Let's just... start over."

Rona's lips curled the tiniest bit upwards and Oliver didn't realize until then how much he wanted to see that little sign of forgiveness. She took her hand from his, wavering in the space between them. "You're still a git though."

"Don't worry, I'm not the only one here, so we're even," he said, following her attempt to return to their typical conversation. But an inadequacy tugged at his throat. He couldn't simply throw back a retort. "You know... we don't have to be this way. I'm nicer than this, I swear."

"Sure," she said, almost laughing.

There she went again, a dismissive response when he was trying to be serious, but just as he about about to reply, she said, almost reluctantly, "No, I know you mean it. Well... I didn't want to believe it but... Penny told me about your clock."

The aforementioned item was the same one he flung against the wall a few dozen times in his dorm in his fit of guilt. There was no better way to vent than an inanimate object and a _Reparo_ charm.

"So thanks... for the apology." A brief smile flashed across her face. "Now can we get back to being at each other's throats?"

Oliver laughed but part of him knew she wasn't kidding. It was easy to make a conversation out of snide remarks, but when the other side had feelings and every word had consequences, it was another matter entirely.

"You do make life interesting," she continued absently. "It's not every day I get to witness a Quidditch captain suffer through George's twisted demands for a little piece of information." She straightened herself up. "Which reminds me, don't you want to ask another question?"

Oliver had forgotten about their deal, which was the true culprit in starting the chaos of the past week. She didn't know he already knew the Strategist was her. He wondered if he should tell her, but quickly pushed the thought away. Quidditch still came first, of course. He had apologized her the best he could, and as long as he didn't hurt her again, it would be okay to spy a little.

He had been a good boy. He deserved a prize.

But as much as he didn't want a repeat of George, he also couldn't resist a well-placed question. Anything to defuse the heavy air. Mostly just to be cheeky. "Think I'm handsome?" he said with a smirk.

Rona turned a horrified pink. Oliver could see the exact moment when she figured out the culprit. "Oh I'm _so_ going to get Penny," she hissed.

He crossed his arms. "I'm waiting for an answer, _love._"

She glared, though it lost its venom when she was blushing like that. "Don't you have a, you know,_ Quidditch_-related question to ask?"

"I do believe all I have to ask is a yes or no question. Now answer," he said, feigning impatience.

"So what if it's yes? Good looks mean nothing to me. I was just pointing it out. I can very well say Jason Samuels is cute, too, and his mind's works as well as a tampered Bludger."

"Ah, it's not the fact of the matter. It's if you noticed that's important. Didn't know you were watching me, Switt," Oliver said, grinning while she turned a deeper shade of red. It was the first time he ever saw her this embarrassed: wide-eyed and scattered, with a suppressed smile on her lips. "I think that question was very worth another dare from George. Now, anything you want, I'll do." He braced for vengeance.

She put on the thinking-of-evil look that mirrored Penny's earlier. Oliver pretended to not be fazed, but he always had a latent fear for the deviousness of females. Finally, she said, "I have a question to ask back. Seems like a fair trade?"

He nodded. He had nothing to hide.

"Were you watching me sleep?"

"What?" It was his turn for the red to creep up his neck. He didn't expect this sort of cheekiness from her. There was a fleeting thought that they were, perhaps, _flirting_.

"Shall I rephrase it to something you can understand better?" she said, with the same grin Oliver had sported. "Were you checking me out while I was sleeping?"

This was worse than George. "So what if I was?"

"I'd say you have very good taste."

"Can't help it if a pretty girl's in front of me." It was an instinctive response. He half-wondered if he believed what he said; he was really only saying things to say them.

She paused, smiling questioningly at him, and then burst another laugh. "Do you ever stop? You don't have to try and get into the skirts of every girl you know."

"I don't — well you don't — " Oliver was about to protest, but he couldn't find anything to protest against when she was smiling the way she did then. Then he found himself chuckling, too.

"I better go now," she said, voice stilted as if unused to such casualness. "Any longer and my friends will think you've swept me away somewhere. I wouldn't be surprised if they're listening somewhere with a Silencing charm to hide their giggling..." She spun toward the exit of the alley. "Isn't that right, Penny?"

Oliver took a quick look around the corner and saw that there had indeed been a trail of fresh footsteps leading up to just behind the wall and ones running away.

Rona followed him and sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into them really. Have to go hex them." She looked him over once with her curious smile. "Just... don't make my life harder anymore, and we'll be fine. You're not that bad." She placed his coat back in his arms and started walking down the street.

Oliver let out a long breath as he watched her walk away. Forgiveness was a beautiful thing. He was never taking that for granted ever again. As he was finally ready to stop thinking about Rona for the day, he couldn't help but see that she was still shivering, and his Gryffindor instinct rose up.

He sighed. The woes of being a half-decent bloke. He walked nearer and threw his coat over her head. "If you're cold, you can keep it for now."

"Thanks," she said, pulling it off, "but no thanks. It'll be the death of me by my friends and you know it." She tried to hand the coat back to him but he let it slide to the floor.

Oliver shrugged and kept on walking, leaving it on the floor.

"You're not going to pick it up?"

He turned around and shrugged again. "I suppose some poor cold soul will have a nice warm coat for today." Turning around again, he headed toward the Three Broomsticks, where his teammates were sure to be found.

A snowball hit in back of his head that was cold, wet, and asking for retaliation. He crouched down to make one for himself and turned around to see instead the inside fur lining of his coat.

"You're a useful coat hanger."

He shook his head and wondered why she always had to be troublesome during the times he genuinely tried to be nice. He turned around to see Rona heading in the same direction and as casually as he could, he followed her steps.

She turned and glared, but didn't stop walking. "Stop following me."

"We happen to be heading in the same direction. You could be very well following me. And you don't own the street."

She rolled her eyes. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"You're the difficult one," he muttered. She gave him another glare when he opened the door to the pub for her, but it lacked the spite of their earlier encounters. She almost looked amused.

Oliver smirked as she walked past him, looking back all the while. He could get used to this.


	7. Boys Will Be Boys

Rona was confused.

It had a lot to do with the evidence stacked up against Oliver from the previous week, and whatever that had occurred an hour ago. They conflicted with each other: one was a heartless bastard out to ruin her and the other sounded like he cared. To say the least, it threw her emotions a curveball.

What perturbed her was that she felt anything at all. She dealt with her problems in an unhealthy way, but it worked for her: ignoring them. That was her plan after their row in the corridor. Ignore. And it worked. The rumors didn't faze her anymore and the week flew by. But then it all began crumbling with a single offhand comment from Penny.

_"Percy says Oliver's been hurling his clock against the wall for the past few days. I know he's been an arse, but at least before he was functioning correctly."_

And with that, the heartless bastard gained a heart. Still, second chances were complicated, and he wasn't worth the trouble. Penny and her Sleep Charm, however, had other ideas.

Rona was ready to ignore him all over again when they stood in that alley, but_ he _wasn't going to ignore _her_. There lay the source of all her confusion: why did he care now? And why did it matter?

Faith in humanity was never Rona's strong point, but no one ever threw clocks at the wall for her. Heartless bastards weren't the type to figure out when she was really crying. Instinct told her to continue ignoring him. Yell at him. But she didn't want to.

And thus, Rona was confused.

She drummed her fingers on the table in front of her, still in this line of thought as Penny, Edie, and Hannah chattered about N.E.W.T.S. around her. They had yet to breach the topic of Oliver although she knew it was on everyone's mind. The pub was crowded that day, and they knew enough to not discuss anything that could lead to more gossip. Her friends were meddling, but they were smart about it.

It was ridiculous how interested they were about her and Oliver. All they shared was a meeting in a hallway, an exchange over breakfast, a vengeful kiss, some more heated exchanges, and a long-due apology. Business as usual.

Rona continued to try and drain her mug of butterbeer even though it had been empty for the past fifteen minutes. _No_, she reassured herself. _My friends are not onto anything. They are delusional. Delusional._

As soon as they left the pub and began trudging back to school, the conversation took a noticeable turn. Hannah interrupted a short lull in the conversation with a "Sooo..." that had all sorts of insinuations behind it.

Rona decided that not hiding anything would probably be the most painless route for her. She sighed, defeated. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything, and don't skimp on the details."

"You all were spying on the whole thing. What have I got to tell you?" Rona didn't want to leak out anymore than necessary. The topic was the type that led to wildly inaccurate love accusations.

"We could only see so much," said Edie with a air of disappointment.

"And if it was a smokin' hot conversation from where we were watching, I can't imagine what it was like to be at eye level," Hannah added.

"Oh _please._ How was your date with Howie?"

"The meal was fine, but that boy has no idea how to handle a woman. Honestly, his arms went everywhere as if he wanted to be the next Whomping Willow. He didn't even _offer me his coat_."

Rona brushed off her insinuations. "You know as well as I do that Oliver was just trying to look nice so I wouldn't Bludger him."

"I don't know," said Hannah, singsong. "Seems too nice for a someone he should hate."

Penny, clearly impatient, swat her arm. "Will you just explain or shall we continue rattling off gush-worthy moments? There was a lot of work done by us — mostly me — to get this sequence of events and we'd like to reap the fruits of our labor."

"Work? Like telling him I think he's handsome?" Rona cringed internally when she remembered his question. _She_ barely remembered when she said that, a mere passing comment during _one_ game; she had no idea how Penny remembered.

"That, finding him, convincing him to see you, and putting you under a Sleep Charm. You're welcome."

"I convinced Penny to do it!" Hannah piped in, wanting her efforts known.

"I was actually against it in the beginning," said Edie. "But I realized you'd be too stubborn to give him a chance anyway."

Rona kicked at the snow. "I need new friends."

Hannah continued as if she never heard her. "Merlin, who knew you two were so cheeky? You both admitted you find the other attractive. There's hope for you yet."

"We were arguing half the time!"

"And the other half?"

Rona opened her mouth to respond but the confusion set in again. The other half was... interesting. "It was a fluke," she said, snippy. "He was just acting nice."

"Oh come _off_ it," said Penny, rolling her eyes. "That was sweet. You know it."

It was. It really was. She was grasping at straws now. "Might we remember that I _loathed his existence?_"

The growing smiles on everyone's face told her that she wasn't convincing anyone.

"You never _hate _anyone," said Penny, "_especially_ competitive people, because you know you can be just as much as a prick as they are if not more. If I recall a quote from last year, you said 'Competition is sexy.' Well, here you go." Her reasoning drew nods from the other girls and a mortified silence from Rona.

Damn Penny's good memory. Damn it to bits.

Rona couldn't deny any of it. She loved a good fight — they were her _thrill_. Some people went dragon taming, others played high-risk duels, but she loved nothing better than a bloke who talked back. But it never went this far before and they certainly weren't supposed to make her feel like this.

She wasn't aware she had began spacing out again when Hannah said with a sense of finality, "I knew it, she does like him."

"I do not!" she snapped instantly.

"The lady and protesting — it's a bit much, don't you think?"

"Because it's not true! I have a right to protest as much as I want," Rona groaned and surrendered to giving a satisfactory explanation. "Fine, he's... nice... in an entirely convoluted sort of way," she said with a slight wince, but after she said it, it was easier to continue. "And yeah, I guess it's sort of_ interesting_ talking to him. I mean, competition_ is_ kind of sexy. Even with the sort of weirdly stalker part. It's...he's...I don't know. There's more to him than I thought I guess. It just caught me off guard today 'cause I wasn't expecting him to be serious and stuff, but I don't know if it was genuine or not — " Rona realized she was rambling and that her friends' steps have all slowed. "What?"

The three girls exchanged glances. Edie, trying not to laugh, mumbled, "We thought he'd be a good match for you, but we were only having fun. We didn't think anything would actually come of it."

"Don't get any ideas. I _tolerate _him."

With a tsk-tsk, Penny said, "So head over heels, you can't even see."

"I am not! I mean, are you lot seriously having fun at my expense — "

"I think you're right, Hannah. She does protest too much."

"Of course," Hannah said with a smirk, "She can't help it. Too many girls have got lost in his eyes and never found again. And now our little Rona, too."

Rona muttered, "I think your brains are all frozen from sitting in the snow too long. Did I mention that you all left really noticeable tracks when you were watching us?"

Edie frowned. "What are you talking about? We were on the roof the whole time."

"But I saw footsteps in the snow."

It took only a second for the realization to hit her.

Rona growled. She was going to _kill_ Roger.

She started for the school with a renewed purpose in her steps. Her friends were keeping up as best as they could, not wanting to miss the carnage about to happen. They were already back on school grounds at that point, and she knew that there were only so many places he could be. She bet that he was chatting away with the rest of the team about what just happened, waiting to reprimand her as if she did something wrong.

She arrived in the Great Hall, flanked by Penny on her left and Hannah and Edie on her right. They made a beeline for the end of the Ravenclaw table where Roger sat. He noticed her at once and stood up and marched toward her with a similar ferocity with a few from the team backing him up. Before they even met face to face, the shouts were already going across the hall.

"Roger! The _hell_ do you think you're doing watching — "

"This is not the time nor place for — "

" — bloody personal matters that _you don't even know the half of_ — "

" — talk about this later, everyone can hear — "

"Screw it, you've crossed the line!" Rona clenched her fists. It was one thing when her friends meddled, but Roger had no place in checking up on her. "Really, Roger, _really?_ It's been years and you don't trust me to know enough to take care of myself?"

"Well there's some proof otherwise with your little tete-a-tete."

Rona shook her head. "As if you know _anything_ about that. Now that I think about it, you never listen to me. I'm starting to think this isn't worth it anymore."

"So you're going to abandon our team?" Roger said, crossing his arms. He gestured to Randolph, Jason, and Duncan, who were standing behind him as backup, the ones Rona expected to be most easily persuaded by Roger to stick up for him.

She was disappointed but hardly surprised. It was things like this that made her want to just leave and see how badly Roger would crash and burn without her. But she couldn't leave for the love of the game and the love of her House winning, and she hated that he knew that.

Penny pushed her aside, her own anger brimming as she pointed a finger at Roger. "You're going to emotionally guilt with this spineless bunch? I don't understand your bloody control freak problems, but deal with it!"

"You're not a part of this — " said Roger.

"Oh you bet your arse I'm a part of this. Stop pushing _your_ nose where it doesn't belong."

Roger ignored her and turned back to Rona. "You may not think it, but I'm looking out for you. Oliver's nothing but trouble and you're going to get your heart broken. I know how blokes like him really are and you know how Quidditch is really played. It's all espionage and sabotage behind the scenes. Hufflepuff do it. Slytherin do it." He stared stonily past her. "And so does he."

Rona turned to see Oliver advancing quickly on the group. No doubt with the amount of commotion they were causing that he would've heard sooner or later. She just hoped it would've been later.

"Davies." His tone was void of his usual humor.

Rona, sensing the situation was about to get very ugly, hissed, "What the hell are you doing here?" Every time he showed up, things got worse.

"He's come to protect his girl," said Roger, as if Oliver's presence validated his argument

A retort was out of her mouth before she could think twice. "I'm not anyone's _girl_, stop being an arse." But she didn't know why he was there either. The confusion sprung up again.

"She's not my girl," said Oliver, still icy. From the scene, one would've guessed otherwise. He stood in front of Rona protectively as the odd Gryffindor amongst the Ravenclaws.

Roger laughed as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Didn't seem that way with you two snogging in the hallway."

Oliver growled and took a step toward him, hand hovering by his wand. Rona jerked him back, now clearly on edge. "Uh, _what do you think you're doing_?"

Surprisingly, he smiled when he turned to her, though the anger was still clear in his eyes. "Trying to be a gentleman."

"By what, slugging him?" She knew Roger had an explosive temper underneath his exterior, and if flinging clocks was any indication of how Oliver vented his emotions, so did he. She couldn't believe that she was trying to protect the both of them, but here she was, uttering sternly, "I can take care of myself."

"Since he's still here," said Oliver with a smirk, "no you can't."

And here she thought _she_ was the stubborn one. "This isn't your problem. And besides, what are you so pissed about? This is all your fault anyway."

He tore his eyes away from hers to glare at Roger. "I'm pissed because a certain hypocrite was all over my reserve chaser last year during the holidays." Roger's expression hardened. "Yeah, Davies, I knew about that. And how you managed to find out about Katie's blind spot. So Rona, he's right. It is all _espionage_, as he puts it."

He took a few more steps toward Roger. "I'm not going to let you drag my name in the mud when you're just as bad."

"I liked her. I wasn't playing some sick game like you," Roger said through gritted teeth. He shoved Oliver back.

All at once, the action surged to a climax. Oliver lunged forward as Rona reached forward to stop him. Roger raised his fist and Jason and Duncan rushed to defend their captain. Rona ran forward to stop anyone she could, and all she could think was, _How did it ever get to this? _

"Whoa, people, _people!_" Jeremy, who had been silently observing from the side, leapt between the two captains, pushing Roger back as soon as Rona was able to grab Oliver by his robes. "This is not worth a month of scrubbing cauldrons! Oh for the love of Rowena, everything goes down the loo when there's no mediation."

Jason sniffed. "Oliver started it."

"Stuff it, Jason, I've got no patience today," said Jeremy. He looked around to make sure the cease fire remained. "Now, let's settle this. Roger — " The captain in question emitted a low growl. " — you have no authority over Rona. Do you forget she's not on our team? She knows some information about a certain identity. If she wants to bloody tell somebody, she can."

"But — "

"No buts," Jeremy snapped. He turned to address the other captain, whose gaze was glued to the ground. "Oliver, I'm sorry that this bloke caused harm for your team, but we don't want harm coming to ours. I'll leave Rona to deal with you, but if you ever hurt her, I swear that you'll be seeing me and the others again and I won't be as peaceful as I am now. She might not be on our team, but we're all brothers to her."

And this was why Jeremy was amongst Rona's favorite people in the world.

He took one last glance at each of the grumbling faces. "So are we done here?"

There was a long pause, but two reluctantly nodded. Rona knew that sense finally came to the both of them and neither would risk jeopardizing their position on the team by getting into a fight. A captain's responsibility came first.

"Good, now let's move on with our lives."

The Ravenclaw boys slowly ambled back to their seats, glancing back more than once. Meanwhile, Rona and her friends considered crashing back in their rooms to avoid further confrontation. As headed toward the tower, Rona noticed Oliver slip into the space beside her. She tried not to pay attention to her friends attempting to sneak a look at their conversation.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

The space between her and Oliver suddenly seemed so close and warmth flooded her side. "It's... okay," she said, trying not to get distracted. "Just a long day. I'm sorry about Roger and your Chaser."

He was pensive, a dark brooding she was not used to seeing in him. "It's not your fault."

She was actually the one who suggested the idea to Roger. There were a lot of things she had done in her tenure with the team, but she never had to the chance to be affected by them until now. She forgot that she too had helped in the manipulation of a poor girl's heart, which made her an utter _hypocrite_. The worst of the worst qualities.

His apology had surprised her. She didn't expect much when their meeting was machinated in the minds of three bored girls armed with a a Sleeping Charm. All he said was a stuttered sentence and it changed everything.

Someone called her name. An arm draped across her shoulders and tugged her away from him. Jeremy.

"I've got something to talk to you about," he said in his usual drawl. He nodded to Oliver. "'scuse me."

Rona was about to protest — it was such an obvious attempt to get her away from Oliver — but this was Jeremy, the _sensible_ one. As she entered the next hallway, she looked back and saw Oliver still looking at them.

"Sorry I had to do that," Jeremy said, looking back as well, "Roger was going to send someone else to do something, and I'd rather not have you hugely embarrassed again for the millionth time today, so I volunteered. Think Ollie's jealous yet?"

Rona snorted. "He's just using me, and you know that."

"But you wish he wasn't."

"Of course I wish he wasn't."

"Because that would mean he's actually interested in you."

"Because that — not you too, Jeremy!" She punched his arm, flush coming to her cheeks.

He laughed, as did Hannah and Edie, who moved back to join them while Penny took the lead to answer the knocker's riddle ahead of them. Edie, Penny, and Hannah went through to the common room, but Jeremy asked Rona to stay behind. She knew where this was headed.

As the door swung closed again, Jeremy said, "I actually do have something to ask you."

Rona threw up her hands. "I don't know, okay, just don't tell anyone else." It was the truth. She didn't know what to think about Oliver. She couldn't forget their initial confrontations, but she had the nagging feeling that perhaps it was all a front. It was a gut feeling, and she didn't like gut feelings, but she wanted to like this one.

That was the first alarm.

He noticed that she lied about her fake crying and that spoke volumes enough. And that was how her heart had started to race like crazy when she stood in front of him in that dingy alleyway of Hogsmeade, and it left her wondering what was wrong with herself. As the final straw, he had to barge in on her row with Roger. Even though she knew he must be defending his own name, but he defended hers just the same.

And that was how every preconception of Oliver was smashed to pieces, leaving her confused.

Jeremy stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"If I fancy — _"_ She stopped suddenly. He hadn't meant to ask her if she fancied Oliver. Oh hell.

His face broke out into a grin. "You don't know," he repeated. "_You don't know._"

At least she opened her mouth to the only one she would ever tell. "It's stupid. I know it, don't say it. The flirting... it's kind of fun. I mean, I don't even know anything about him." Merlin, she sounded like a ditz. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just a stupid crush. Not even like a crush, it's like... like a dent — _rub that stupid grin off your face before I punch it off!_"

But he didn't. "You have a crush on Oliver Wood," he said, now chuckling.

It was so strange to hear those words out loud. "Look, I still don't know what to think. Today's been... weird. I'm sure this is just some passing infatuation. Just keep this from some certain girls I room with. This isn't anything serious and they look completely ready to make it so as soon as they catch wind of this. Now, didn't you have something to ask me?"

"Okay, okay," he said, the last vestige of his laugh fading away, "Looks like you're beating yourself over it enough, so I'll leave you be. I also have a... _dent_ as you call it."

It was her time to grin. She crossed her arms, ready for business and glad at having someone else's love life be the topic for once. "You want me to hook you up."

"Well, it's one of your roommates — "

"Edie?" she said instantly. "Oh now that I think about it, you two would look nice together. She's a bit mousy, but once you get to know her, she really opens up — "

"Actually it's Hannah."

Her eyes widened twice over. "_What?_"

"Er, yeah," said Jeremy, suddenly shy, "She's in my Charms class you see. I sit behind her and — "

"Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. You like _Hannah_. The Hannah that crashes the other house's parties and comes back drunk every other week. The Hannah that calls her dates 'boy toys' and goes through them like tissue. _That_ Hannah."

"Y...es."

"You _were_ the last sane person on the team."

That only made his grin worse. "So can you?"

"Put in a good word or three for you? Of course." She shook her head. "You have no idea what you're getting into."

He swung his arm back around her shoulders. "That makes two of us now, doesn't it?"


	8. Convoluted is an Understatement

The holidays were fast approaching. The Hogwarts Express was due to depart the next morning and per usual, most seventh years opted to stay behind at the castle to celebrate their last year with some old-fashioned loosely supervised debauchery. Rona was losing Penny to Weasley family dinner, but she had the company of Hannah, Edie, Jeremy, and Roger. Even though Roger often irritated her, they were — as Jeremy had said — like her brothers and she had forgiven him, however grudgingly.

"Being tyrannical is his way of showing he cares," Penny said, as she and Rona walked down the train station. Her luggage clacked behind her.

They were there earlier than needed, per Percy's request. As a result, only Rona was willing to wake up to send her off. It was mind-numbingly early and mind-numbingly cold, even with her extra jacket. She yawned loudly to make her point. "Yeah 'kay, where are you meeting Percy again?"

"Probably sitting in the train already." Penny threw her a pointed look. "I told you to stop staying up so late to read —_ ah_. Hello Oliver."

Definitely did not want to be awake.

"Penny!" His voice was not far behind. "Going back home I presume?"

"Yes, but I'll be visiting the Weasleys, mostly." Penny slowed her brisk walk to accommodate him, even as Rona tried to walk faster, hunched in her coat and refusing to look back.

"Right, with Percy. He told me. I walked him to the train just now." He entered the corner of Rona's vision, smiling. She raised an eyebrow. He raised an eyebrow back, but otherwise ignored her for Penny who was on the other side of her. "First time?"

Penny nodded. If there was any indication she found Oliver's presence to be strange, she did not show it. "He's been stalling, but his mum's insisting. Are you staying here like Rona?"

"Looks like it." He flashed Rona another smile and she returned it insincerely to counter.

"Don't mind her," Penny said, brushing her off with a wave. "It's just a bit too early for her liking."

It was, but Rona also had a bigger problem on her mind. After talking to Jeremy the previous night, she had convinced herself that whatever infatuation with Oliver was the result of an overemotional day and had been certain that it would go away after a good night's sleep; however, the sudden quivering feeling at the pit of her stomach seemed to prove otherwise.

On top of it all, her resistance to his charms was slipping. It was part of her job as her team's strategist to note the details of their opponents, but as her gaze traced along his jawline, those details were taking a markedly non-Quidditch related direction.

_Stupid sodding smirk, sexy competition, chivalry complex, et cetera, et cetera._

While Rona preoccupied herself with self-loathing, Penny scanned the prefect section of the train. A window screeched open a few meters ahead, where a freckled face protruded. "Here's where I get on then."

"Here, allow me," Oliver said, stepping forward to lift her bag.

Though she hadn't been focusing on it, Rona couldn't help but notice the movement of his right arm. Had it always been that stiff? He was barely putting any weight on it and she could have sworn he was right-handed. Did he hold his broom over-under or under-over? Was he —

"Are you going to keep staring at Oliver or are you going to say goodbye?"

Rona snapped up at Penny's voice. "I was not staring," she muttered. Oliver glanced away absently as if he heard nothing, but he sported an obvious smile. Rona brushed it off, rolling her eyes. "I'll see you in two weeks then. Don't have too much fun with Percy."

Penny shook her head. "Oh don't you start..." Her voice faded away as she moved inside the carriage.

"Use contraceptive!" Rona called after her, though she knew she was already out of earshot.

"Are you two always like this?" Oliver was chuckling an it bothered her that he sounded genuinely interested, the kind of casual friendliness that only led to more quivering stomachs.

"When we're civil." She spun back around toward the castle. "Is there a problem?"

He kept looking at her. "No it's just... I finally understand you now," he said. "It's not just me. You just have to have to last word with _everyone_."

"I do not!" Rona regretted the words as soon as it came out of her mouth. "I do_ not_," she repeated, jamming her hands in her coat pockets. Oliver's _existence_ was enough to fuel her streak of bitterness. "Why do you have to stalk me this early?"

He scoffed, "Don't flatter yourself. I'm always up this early."

She continued her habit of kicking at the snow, except the path was cleared so she had to settle with the little piles on her way. "And you're always at the train station too, I suppose."

"Of course not. The gates are usually locked," he said with another grin. It hung in the air, as if anticipating another one of her sour replies. Tired, she gave none and focused on hugging her arms closer to keep in what little warmth she had instead. Oliver sighed, "Do you need my jacket again?"

"_No._"

He grumbled, obviously frustrated, and Rona couldn't help but feel a little guilty. He was _trying_ to be nice, which was more than she could say for herself.

"Just what is your problem with me?" he asked, suddenly somber. "I stopped being such a prat. I _thought_, anyway."

"It's _nothing_..."

The grin reappeared. "Is it 'cause I heard you have a thing for me?"

She whipped around to stare at him, eyes widening. "Jeremy_ told_ you? He should know better than to interfere for me — "

His steps stopped and his grin faded.

And it suddenly became very quiet.

Oliver studied her carefully with a not-quite smile and eyes alight while Rona stared back, stomach sinking farther and farther.

"Come again?"

"You were joking," muttered Rona, burying her face in her hands. The pit in her stomach kept digging itself deeper. "You were _joking._ I can't believe it. This is like the _third _time this has happened in two days. At least before, it was to my friends, not you... _bloody... git!_"

"This is how... you act to people you fancy?" he said, grin reforming.

"Oh do _not _start. You are a_ phase_." She began walking again in a bitter stomp. He followed.

"What'd you say I was?"

"A phase. A dent." She didn't dare look his way again, lest she discover an even brighter shade of red on her cheeks. "You're a dent, Oliver."

"I'm a dent?" he laughed. "Care to clarify?"

"It's something you..._ trip over _and curse at."

"Lovely."

They continued in silence. Rona was waiting for a proper response — she had talked enough anyhow. The only optimistic thought roaming in her mind was that his rejection would at least crush the crush once and for all.

Finally, as they passed the school gates, he spoke up. "You really don't want to fancy me that much?"

That wasn't a rejection. He seemed almost... disappointed. They were stumbling too far into uncharted territory.

Rona bit her lip. "Look... it's just... I don't know." How was she supposed to say, _I'd really prefer going back to hating you for convenience's sake?_ "You've got to see it my way. We're only talking because you wanted information from me. And then all of a sudden you're nice. How do I know it's not an act?"

"You... believe Roger?" He definitely sounded disappointed this time.

She wrinkled her nose. "Don't give me that look. Roger's a twat, but a twat with a point. You don't exactly have the best track record, what with pressing girls up against walls trying to seduce them. It's just going to take some time."

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "So you don't trust me but you like me?"

"Exactly."

"Girls have no logic. And you don't want to know what I think of you or anything like that?"

Rona was waiting for him to say something along those lines. She wanted to know quite badly, but why burden herself with 'what-ifs'? "I wouldn't believe you, no matter what you said."

He paused, tilting his head to the side, and Rona could only wonder what he was thinking, _deciding_. "At least it's only six weeks until our Houses' match," he said.

She was almost afraid to ask, sensing the implications. "And then?"

He leaned in, gaze trained on her. "And then maybe I'll keep trying to talk to you even though I have nothing to gain, because I've fallen for you."

The sound of her heartbeat drowned out everything else. She saw it coming, but it didn't matter. Calm, controlled insides went all a-flutter.

"I'll be over you by then," she uttered, hoping she sounded confident enough, mostly to convince herself.

"And leave me all alone?" He clutched at his heart. The grin had yet to leave his face. "Love, you're cruel. And to your handsome crush, no less."

"_Insufferable_ crush."

"What've you got against me anyhow?" He straightened himself up and resumed walking. They were beginning to look conspicuous to the people walking past to the train station.

"_Everything_," Rona scoffed. She held out a hand, counting by her fingers. "I should very well still hate you, except you're not much of a threat and right now, I'm more pissed at Roger. It's midyear and I've been bored and my mind is trying to fill that void by somehow convincing me that this lovely dent will spice my life up. If my mind isn't doing that, my friends certainly are. Plus, I fancy blokes for the most ridiculous reasons and you have certainly been the most ridiculous out of all of them."

Oliver stared at her, pinching the bottom of his chin. "...you've thought about this quite a bit."

"I need to rationalize myself somehow."

He started walking backwards, his hands on his head and elbows jutting out on either side of him. "Why is fancying someone so difficult for girls? Better question, why is _everything_ so difficult for girls?"

She smirked. "'cause we have to deal with blokes like you."

He smirked back. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm brilliant."

They continued their mock bickering until they were in the entrance hall. She was uncomfortable with how long they kept up their repartee, how much it entertained her, and the disappointment when it ended. Before they went their separate ways, however, a stern voice interrupted.

"Mr. Wood, Miss Switt."

Oliver and Rona turned around just as Professor McGonagall walked between them.

"Both of you in my office now, please."

They raised a eyebrow at each other, both knowing exactly why they were being called in: the near-fight from the day before. Rona had counted herself lucky that there had been no immediate disciplinary action. A silly thought, considering how luck had avoided her like the plague lately.

As the cherry on top, when the door to McGonagall's office opened, Roger was standing by the desk. Rona would have liked to believe that Roger and Oliver were smart enough to not start a fight in the Headmistress's office, but taking into the intense staring competition already in session, she wouldn't have bet on it.

She wedged herself between them just in case.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "This will only take a moment. A prefect informed me of what happened yesterday in the Great Hall. If it were not for the intervention by Mr. Jeremy Stretton, we would have quite a fix. Two Quidditch captains fighting and risking suspension?" They shuffled around, sending glances all over the room. "I was told this matter involves Miss Switt. Would someone care to explain?"

Roger had his response ready. "Oliver's trying to spy on my team through her. I'm protecting her, Professor."

Oliver stiffened, hands clenched. "That was before."

"What a liar! You were with her this morning, weren't you?"

Rona balked. "Roger!"

Professor McGonagall held up a hand. "I will not delve into personal matters — "

"But, Professor," Roger began, pointing an finger at Oliver.

"But _nothing, _Mr. Davies. Now, I suggest you two leave your battles on the pitch, unless you wish to have your reserves play the next game, understand?"

With great reluctance, Oliver and Roger nodded. Rona let out a thankful breath. The entire time she wanted to inch away. The idea of two blokes fighting over a girl was grossly overrated. It was not flattering; it was idiotic.

Professor McGonagall gave them a few more sharp reprimands before dismissing them. As Rona turned to leave with the other two, the professor stopped her. "Miss Switt, if you'll just stay a little longer." She motioned for her to sit, and Rona did so, wondering what else needed to be discussed.

After the office door closed, Professor McGonagall sat down as well, folding her hands together. "This is your last year here. What future are you working toward?"

Was this the professor's version of small talk? "Er, well I'm planning to take N.E.W.T.S. in Runes, Arithmancy, History of Magic, and Herbology. I was thinking of being an archivist, maybe part-time at St. Mungo's."

"The reason I am asking," she said, adjusting her glasses, "is that I wonder if you were considering Quidditch as an option."

"Quid — " Rona blinked stupidly, caught off guard. "How do you know?"

Professor McGonagall reached inside a drawer. "Professor Flitwick has told me about your contributions to your team and — " She laid out a fan of papers in front of Rona that she immediately recognized as her lost Quidditch notes from fifth year. " — you've left a couple souvenirs in your old Transfiguration book."

Rona smiled sheepishly as she picked them up. Her old plays seemed so amateur now.

"While I frown upon any inattentiveness in my class, I must admit these are quite impressive. You have a good eye."

"Thank you, Professor. I... thank you." She liked to brag about her skills, but she hardly thought they had career potential. "I'd really like to keep going with this, but I've don't have any actual experience. I'm just a fan. Maybe a very involved fan, but no one will hire me on those credentials."

Professor McGonagall sniffed disapprovingly. "This is no time to be humble, Miss Switt. You are certainly not going to have a future in Quidditch with that sort of attitude. Have you considered making your talents known?"

Her glance flitted away. Past regrets seemed to pile up lately. "To be honest, Professor... I do a bit of spying myself." She quickly added, "Nothing serious, but I've been to other teams' practices and the like and I wouldn't be able to continue if others knew about it."

To her surprise, Professor McGonagall smiled. "And what do you do when you're at these practices?" she asked in the tone all professors had when there was an answer they wanted their students to figure out.

No one ever questioned her on this topic. She floundered with her words before finally forming a sentence. "Well, I um, mostly look at their play styles... techniques I suppose. Roger's a dunce — I mean _isn't very good _with strategies, and I don't want to base all my plays on what I see at the matches. Only nine a year, after all. So I practically live on that pitch during the training season."

"And now that you've had a few years experience, how many practices have you been to this year?"

Whatever Professor McGonagall was getting at, Rona was slow on the uptake. "Er..." Her mind drew a blank. She had accidentally stayed for — and was subsequently kicked out of — that one Gryffindor session a few weeks back, but otherwise she couldn't remember being at any that year. _But why? Was I focusing on my classes? ...No. I was busy improving the team. I was busy making my own plays. I was busy—_

"Miss Switt?" she said, training a stern eye on her.

Rona jolted alert. "Um, none, Professor. I haven't been to any at all."

"I see." Professor McGonagall gave her a knowing tilt of the head. "Perhaps because you no longer need to rely on underhanded tactics and instead, yourself."

Rona's mouth paused half open. "That... could possibly be true."

"Wisdom of a witch," she said, with a curl of her lips. "In any case, this is all I wanted to discuss. I suggest you find Madam Hooch for further advice. I'm sure she'll know where to find open positions."

Rona sounded like she had been Bludgered more than Jason and Professor McGonagall still thought she was ready for the big leagues. She finally stopped gaping long enough to smile politely. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I'll find her as soon as I can."

"That will be all. Good luck — oh, and do excuse Oliver. He's wanted the Cup ever since Charlie Weasley left, so he can be very — "

" — persistent," they both said at the same time.

When Rona exited the office, she found Roger leaning on the wall nearby, a surly expression accompanying his crossed arms, as expected. Oliver was nowhere in sight, but seeing as Roger's face was still unbruised, no one had thrown a punch while she was in McGonagall's office.

Ignoring Roger, she started toward the Great Hall. He followed wordlessly, all the while trying to communicate via a combination of raising his eyebrows and squinting — a feat in itself.

"Stop that," she muttered, shooting him an exasperated glance. "You are not about to reprimand me in a manner that's even _more_ annoying than your lectures. I know what you want to ask. Have you ever considered that I have a plan in dealing with Oliver?"

"You haven't given me a reason to believe you since you've started snogging him."

"I swear, the way you talk, it's as if you're jealous and obsessed. But I don't think Oliver likes blokes. I'm sorry."

"Just get on with it."

Her lie was at the ready. "Oliver might be able to get information from me, but it works the other way around, too. It doesn't matter if he knows I'm the Strategist or if he thinks I know who it is: we get the better end of the deal regardless. I have access to the _captain _of the Gryffindors."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Rona interrupted him, "And do _not _start on his bloody charm again. He is not going to_ seduce_ information out of me. Will of a woman, Roger. My feminist side can kick your arse. 'sides, considering a Gryffindor's greatest trait is being _foolhardy_, he'll get cocky. Let his guard down. So you just focus on beating Slytherin so we have a chance at the Cup. Your broom handling's lacking."

Roger shook his head at her quip, but seemed interested otherwise. "I like the way you think," he said, rubbing his chin. "I like it a lot."

"Yes, because I actually _think_. Try it one day. Just don't mess this up."

"I know you think I'm being hard on you, but he is trouble — "

"Yeah,_ dad_, I know."

He frowned. "I'm serious."

"I know. You're _always_ serious."

She managed to change the topic to her newly devised Knot the Knuts maneuver, which kept Roger occupied the entire way to the table. Rona sat with him and Edie that morning. Jeremy was attempting to woo Hannah in their usual lunch spot further down the table. For Rona, it resulted in large amounts of secondhand embarrassment and horror as she watched Hannah lead him outside like a manticore ready to devour its victim.

In the few times she glanced up at the Gryffindor table, she thought she saw Oliver looking at her, but she passed it off as her compromised mind playing tricks on her. As thrilling as the feeling of a crush was, it was messy, inane, and the last thing she wanted if she intended to keep focused until their last game. It was absolutely ridiculous to spend so much time thinking about him, but she did think about him. She couldn't help it. Rona cursed inwardly at Penny. She was right. Competition, puzzles, and Quidditch to boot. Oliver was a big, bloody question mark, and she actually liked him for that.

Bloody hell, he knew how to make six weeks seem like forever.


	9. Chasing, Seeking, Keeping

**A/N I just wanted to say thank you all for your lovely reviews :) They really warm-fuzzy up my day!**

* * *

><p>After that morning, she didn't run into Oliver again, and Roger finally left her alone. It took a lie for him to believe her, but Roger hardly ever <em>un<em>complicated her life.

Spying on Oliver almost wasn't a lie, but McGonagall was right; she didn't need to resort to that anymore. While Duncan and Grant did pester her about him, the matter was quickly dropped in favor of protesting Roger's extra practices.

Jeremy and Hannah reappeared later that afternoon. Hannah said it was the first time in a long while that she got to snog a "sensible boy senseless" and Jeremy turned bright red. Rona immediately then checked and double-checked to assure herself that he was of a stable working mind. He _seemed_ so, although his joy at securing a Hogsmeade date made her doubt herself. She finally decided that he was simply a masochist.

The girls' dorm was quieter than usual with Penny gone. She usually was the one to pull their conversations together. Rona began her latest book, one of many sent by owl from her family as an early Christmas gift. Hannah chatted on like usual while the other two listened, but even she got tired and began pestering Edie, who griped about tailing her brother.

"At least he's not as bad as those Slytherin fifth years," said Hannah.

"_Flooding_ the tower isn't bad?"

"What I mean is, he's just growing up. Flooding the tower is a normal part of that." Hannah was an only child. It showed. "You can stop being the older sis for just a bit. He'll turn out fine."

"But — "

"But _nothing._ Tomorrow night we're going over to the Hufflepuffs and we're all going to have _fun_. Bonnie tipped me off about their little holiday activities, and I hear there are wonderful perks to living near a kitchen. By the way, this includes you, Rona."

Rona scowled. She never liked parties. Too often, it involved pretending she was interested in what other people were saying when she would much rather stick to her anti-social tendencies. Knowing Hannah's persistence, however, she knew it was futile to refuse.

Hannah continued talking, though Rona stopped paying attention until she heard her sing-song voice say, "And what about your little date with Ollie this morning?"

Rona, prepared for the question, calmly answered, "Penny and I ran into him at the station. We had a civil conversation and that is that."

"Such a drag," she said with a sigh, clearly disappointed at Rona's lack of storytelling skills. The conversation dwindled, but it was already getting late and sleep called.

Rona thought about Oliver only once more that night. _Remember that he's just another good-looking bloke in Quidditch. If I were to fall for anyone who fit that description, I might as well have chosen some idiot in my own team._ With that reassurance, she closed her eyes and drifted off.

Morning aside, it was the most normal day she had had in ages.

* * *

><p>"RONA!"<p>

Rona jolted awake, book tumbling off her. She had fallen asleep reading on her bed that afternoon. "Wh... what? What's going on?" She shook her head to get rid of the grogginess to look up at a panicked Edie grabbing at her shoulders.

"_Where's the jar?_"

She blinked. "Jar? What jar?"

"The_ jar!_" Edie wailed, as if it made perfect sense. "The one I took from my brother and gave you."

It took a few moments before the scent of butterbeer wafted through her mind, forming the hazy image of said jar. "Oh, that thing. I must've... misplaced it. Sorry, was it important?"

Edie clutched at her cheeks. "It's not mine, but if it's gone, I'm afraid my brother's going to use it for something and I didn't see him this morning and... and..." She bit her lip and sat down on the edge of her bed, creases of worry still in her expression. "I'm sorry. Hannah's right isn't she?"

Rona couldn't help but laugh, knowing her friend lived to worry. "Just a little bit. Speaking of Hannah, where is she? She was here earlier."

"She just went downstairs to meet with Jeremy. Who would've thought, hmm?" They were the latest gossip going around the common rooms. No one expected the wild child to pair up with the mild-mannered Chaser, but there had also been a recent string of surprise couplings. Prefect Wendy Hinks was seen snogging in the bushes with the resident joker of Slytherin. Meanwhile Ponch Redforth, the suave sixth year of every girl's dreams, came out with his boyfriend Corin. And as Rona knew very well, the bookworm and the Quidditch captain was the first shocker that started it all.

After Rona picked a new book from the pile and tucked it under her arm, they went downstairs to find Hannah. By the time they reached the common room, they had somehow detoured to the topic of Professor Flitwick's hair.

"No, I'm fairly sure that it's a wig," Rona said. "One of those upper-tier magically enhanced ones, since it seems — _OH DEAR MERLIN, THERE ARE FIRST YEARS IN THIS ROOM, HANNAH!_"

Hannah quickly extracted herself from straddling Jeremy's lap and stopped what seemed to be inhaling his face. She did not seem a hint embarrassed, while Jeremy was beet red but otherwise looked very happy. They were situated at the so-called blind spot of the room, a lesser used loveseat that hugged the corner of an alcove. Rona and Edie unfortunately, were at the very angle where they could see everything happening.

"No one was looking until you decided to roar that out," said Hannah, scooting over on the sofa to make room for Rona. Rona wasn't sure she wanted to sit on a tainted sofa. "Did you find that thing you were looking for, Edie?"

Edie grumbled. "No. I think it's time for me to just let him take all the blame he deserves."

"Finally." Hannah's devious glint appeared. "Does that mean it's a girl's day in?"

Rona knew exactly what that entailed, and her feet were ready to bolt. "Oh no, Hannah. No you don't. No, no, no, no, _no_."

Hannah stood up, hands clasped together in anticipation. "When was the last time you put on makeup, Rona darling?"

Rona took a few steps back. "The last time you mentioned a girl's day in. And if I ever will again, it'll be too soon." She mouthed to Jeremy, _Save me now_. He seemed content to let the scene play out.

"Don't be ridiculous. It'll be good for the party later. I'll do both yours and Edie's hair." Hannah swatted at Rona's loose strands. "Break out of that ponytail and bun you always have this in. Some mascara will do wonders..." Rona shielded her face defensively.

Jeremy finally took the opportunity to interrupt. "Hannah, I do need to talk to Rona for a bit." The default excuse. "Why don't you and Edie get a head start?"

Hannah plunked back down on the sofa and snuggled up to her recent snogging partner with a pout. "You better not be helping her run off. She's practically training for a marathon as we speak."

"If she runs, I'll..." He leaned in close to her ear and the rest was inaudible, thankfully.

A hand flew to Hannah's mouth to cover her giggle. "Oooh Mister Stretton, you're a Keeper."

"Actually, I'm a Chaser, but I get the idea." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Rona wanted to gag. What did her roommate _do_ to him? But Hannah already forgot Rona and began tugging at Edie to try everything from the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_. She couldn't complain.

"I better see you in within the hour, Rona," Hannah added before leaving.

She made a face in reply and dropped herself onto the seat next to Jeremy, who watched them until they disappeared up the stairs. He sighed happily and leaned back. "What a woman."

"I didn't think you fancied her that much," she said, giving him a sidelong glance. "And could you stop trying to make babies where everyone can see it? You're getting a dozen first years to hit puberty early."

"I get it." He grinned. "I really do like her though. What can I say? She's exciting."

"What a loony reason."

"Oh really?" he said, crossing his arms. "And why, might I ask, do you fancy Oliver?"

Rona scowled. "At least I don't intend to make anything of it," she said, picking at the dark blue throw underneath her. "I swear, it's just 'cause I like the challenge of the moment. He's a nice thought. But a stupid thought."

He jabbed her in the side. "I think the fact that you consider him at all is quite telling."

She remained tight-lipped, dissatisfied with how many things he was getting right, but Jeremy was one of two people whom she could tell anything. With the other being absent for the next two weeks, she had no one else to turn to for advice. Finally, she said, "He knows I like him."

Jeremy leaned back with a look of interest before folding his hands and gesturing her to continue. He was one clipboard away from being her official psychiatrist.

"I accidentally told him yesterday. And I don't know if the feeling's mutual." Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, this sounded even stupider out loud. "Logically it isn't. But he makes me feel like it is. Ugh, he must be a bloody pro at this, laughing his arse off at what an easy target I am."

He let out a low whistle. "That is a tough one. I don't know... follow your heart?"

Rona nearly choked as she burst out laughing.

"What?" he said, pushing her head away playfully. "That's all that the telly teaches you to do, 'follow your heart'. We both watched those Muggle serials when we were younger, don't deny it!"

She could indeed distinctly remember fond memories of cartoons, which were often interrupted by her Gram's soaps. It didn't make his statement any less corny.

When her laughter was at its end, she sunk back into the sofa. "Well, I guess the default plan is to sit it out. Six weeks 'til our match and then we'll see his true colors after." She blew at her wayward strands of hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. He's not even worth my time. Scratch that, it's worse. I could be utterly betraying our team right now. And yet... yet!" She threw her hands up.

He grinned. "Thrill of the chase. Of course, there's the matter of perhaps he'll still lie to you afterward just to pretend that he was telling the truth all along — "

"Well, I suppose — " she began.

" — or the fact that if you trust him so little now, it's hardly a foundation for a relationship — "

She raised a hand. "I've considered that — "

" — or that if he was lying and using you all along, you'll just look like a fool for waiting — "

"Jeremy — "

" — but what I'm getting at is, I think you should take a chance."

She blinked. "..._What?_" She wasn't sure if she heard wrong or if Hannah did etch a dent in his logic.

"You said it yourself to Roger. It's your last year here, and you wanted some fun. Wasn't exactly what you were thinking of, but..." He shrugged again. "You're not much of a risk-taker. We both aren't. But I went in headfirst with Hannah and... corrupting first years aside, I'm happy. And even if hearts get broken later, I don't think it's something to regret. I'd regret not taking the chance in the first place."

Rona stayed silent for a long moment, staring at him. "That's the _stupidest_ reason to get in a relationship I have ever heard of. Did the telly teach you this too?"

"Actually, yes. Those Muggles shows spend an inordinate amount of time on relationships."

"Hannah's a horrible influence on you."

"I'd swear it's all me, but you'd never believe it," he said with a laugh. He glanced at the darkening afternoon outside the window and gestured a thumb toward the staircase. "I'm going to go ask my mates what they're doing tonight. You can come up if you want, or are you going to go get dolled up?"

Rona cringed. She had almost forgotten about Hannah's _Witch Weekly_ session. "Nah, I've... got to talk to Madam Hooch. Have fun with whatever you promised her. Hopefully somewhere else this time." She made another choking sound as she stood up after him. He laughed, bid her good luck, and left.

As Rona retrieved her book, wedged in the side of the cushion and nearly forgotten, the sweets bowl caught her eye. It glittered with gold and red wrappers ready for the holidays. Honeybugs were her favorite. She put one in her pocket and popped another one in her mouth. She frowned, sucking it in the side of her cheek some more. It definitely tasted like butterbeer, but Honeybugs usually only came in two flavors: honey and bug.

In any case, it was still delicious.

Rona set out to find Madam Hooch, as suggested by Professor McGonagall. Quidditch was just a glorified hobby, but Professor McGonagall had a point. She had to try.

She first checked her office in the castle, and after seeing she wasn't there, she headed toward her office by the pitch. The path was non-existent, completely covered in blinding snow that swam before her eyes. She could barely make out her destination, a set of double doors next to the main entrance to the pitch. It housed part of the locker rooms, equipment storage, and Madam Hooch's office.

She noticed something odd about the building, but she couldn't quite place what until she realized it seemed to get farther from her the more she walked. She ran a few steps forward, and it retreated backwards. She tried again, but her feet stumbled.

There was a nagging voice in her mind that told her,_ You're in trouble_, but another voice drowned it out with _But I need to go to Madam Hooch's... how else am I going to get famous?_ She managed to pull herself back up, and squinted at the swirl of activity above the pitch.

_There are no practices during the holidays..._

She looked down and the snow turned into clouds, and she was flying over the Quidditch pitch without a broom. _There's something not right, there's something not right about this._

A streak of gold suddenly flew past, grazing her ear. A voice was calling her from behind. _Switt... Rona..._ Her head whipped around and she could see Oliver flying toward her. _What are you doing here, Wood? You aren't the Seeker._

He cocked his head to the side._ Neither are you, love. _He dove after the Snitch and she followed behind him.

The faster she went, the harder the wind blew. _It's cold. It's too cold._ Fabric fluttered across her face and she realized that she was wearing Oliver's jacket. She could hear his chuckle echoing. The Snitch flew past again, and she reached out for it at the same time as Oliver. She narrowed her eyes. _You're not a Seeker! You're cheating!_

He smirked. _Speak for yourself. Shouldn't you be making the plays, not doing them?_

The Snitch disappeared from her sight as she was distracted by his words. She slowed, her eyes darting to find it. Suddenly a giant hand enclosed around her, and she struggled to break free. Oliver towered above her.

_Gotcha. One hundred fifty points to Gryffindor. _

She looked back down. Her clothes were all gold. _I'm the Snitch? _She had a sudden moment of lucidity. _My mind makes the most ridiculous metaphors._

Oliver chuckled again and held her up to his face. _Yes, you are ridiculous, but even in your dreams you can't fly without a broomstick._

He released her, and she fell through the clouds, grasping at the broomstick that lay just out of reach. The ground was coming at her faster and faster, and his laugh grew louder and louder...

She woke up with a gasp.

For the next few seconds, she still trembled with terror and adrenaline. The room spun but she was definitely in a _room_. Her head ached like it had been just cracked on the ground. She felt in her grasp a ball of fabric. A bed. The spinning stopped and her vision began to adjust to the darkness.

The last thing she could remember was leaving the castle, and it was still light out. Was it just a strange dream? There was something different about the room. It didn't feel like her bed and it smelled like the boys' dorm. The room gave off a distinct maroon hue —

_It couldn't be._

She heard a doorknob rattle and turned her head for the first time. Her eyes darted madly, trying to figure out the shapes on the wall, but she knew they were Gryffindor banners. The door creaked open, letting out plumes of steam, and out stepped the Quidditch captain clad in nothing but a towel.


	10. A Sugar Induced Revelation

**A/N** That was a fun cliffhanger :D Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p>Oliver didn't seem to notice that she was awake, marveling the contours of his muscles while alarms were ringing inside her head. He ambled over to another bed with clothes draped on the edge. Rona tensed in panic when he began loosening his towel, and she realized that he was about to change and that involved getting naked. She may have been desensitized to the idea of naked blokes due to her habit of barging into locker rooms, but this was <em>Oliver<em>, and there was nothing desensitized about him.

"OI!" she screeched just as he tugged an end of the towel free. His head swung around to meet her wide eyes, hands still thankfully grasping the towel in place. "What are you _doing?_"

He held a finger to his lips and gestured toward a sleeping figure in another bed. "I'm putting clothes on. Unless you don't want me to."

She glowered at him before turning to face the other way. Everything was still whirling, and it hurt to pull her head up. "What happened?" she muttered into the pillow. She heard the rustle of fabric of him putting on shorts.

"You tell me. What kind of idiot gets piss drunk all alone?"

She furrowed her brows. A hangover would make sense for her symptoms, but she didn't remember going to the party. She looked back up and pretended to not pay attention to his lack of a shirt. "What are you talking about? I don't drink."

He snorted as he pulled on his vest. "Says the girl twirling around the pitch laughing like a maniac."

"You're joking right?" she said, staring incredulously. "I only drink butter — "

The candy.

She quickly looked for her pockets but she didn't have her coat on anymore. Sitting up, found it hanging on the side of the bed, dripping wet. "The hell?" she muttered. "Did you shower in my coat?" She reached inside her left pocket and took out the still-wrapped candy she had been saving.

"For your information, you suddenly decided you wanted to fly through the snow." He strode over with his wand and muttered a Hot Air Charm that nearly frizzed up her hair. He took the candy from her hand to examine it. "I saw some fifth years with these. What are they?"

"Well I _thought_ it was a Honeybug. Now I'm pretty sure it's Edie's brother's experiment. He must've used concentrated butterbeer or something, because I only ate one, and apparently it's enough to induce hallucinations." She held a hand to her head, and the whirling stopped. "That still doesn't explain why I'm in your bed right now."

"Percy's bed, actually. Figured he won't mind. Now scoot over," he said, sitting down on the bed. She obliged warily and wondered how many out-of-context stories Hannah would be able to think up from just the past two minutes. Rona was drunk with Oliver. Rona saw Oliver strip. Rona was in bed in Oliver...

He leaned back against the headboard. "Like I said, I found you dancing around the pitch. You're lucky I went back to get stuff from my lockers, 'else you'd be found frozen stiff. Then I had to coerce you to follow me — "

"Coerce?" She felt a lump rise in her throat.

"Yeah, coerce," he said with a nudge and a waggle of his eyebrows. "Unfortunately, it was far more innocent than you would've preferred, I'm sure. You were mumbling or something that you were trying to catch the Snitch, so I told you it was in the lake."

Her gaze flattened. "You told me to go jump in a lake?"

"No, I figured you wouldn't listen to me," he corrected, holding up a finger. "And I was right. You put on that accusatory tone — "

"I am not _accusatory!_"

He snickered. "...right. Anyway, you tell me that I'm a liar and that I just want the Snitch for myself and that I'm not the Seeker and that I'm cheating. And the rest of what you babble is just as nonsensical."

Parts of her hallucination were coming back to her. They did not highlight her sanity in any way.

"And then you decide to wade through all the snow you possibly could." His brows furrowed together. "Do you know how hard it is to drag you out of the snow? Even when you're completely out of it, you resist like a _madwoman_. And we barely get back before it's curfew, and I'm trying to hide the fact that you were bloody wasted, which was no small effort when you took every opportunity to try and escape from me — "

"Escape?"

"Yes, _escape_. From my loving embrace. I couldn't let go of you without you charging at the nearest portrait."

"You're kidding," she squeaked, blush rising to cheeks.

"Oh, but I'm not," he said, drinking up every bit of embarrassment. "So I dragged you up here, trying to find someone who could take you back to your room, but I already saw some prefects out, and I didn't want you to get caught for being drunk — nice aren't I?" The corner of his mouth tilted up ever so smugly. "I care so much."

"You care?"

"Yes, I do. Do you enjoy repeating everything I say?"

"Yes, I do," she said, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head but his eyes lingered on hers. Her breath hitched and her only hope was that it wasn't audible, all the while scolding herself, _Do you want this dent to go away or not?_

A thud from the other side of the room broke their gaze.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Finnegan," he said, gesturing back to the sleeping figure who had turned over. He ran his other hand through his hair. "Almost as piss drunk as you were. He'll be out all night. Just him, me, and Jules here for the holidays, and Jules is still at that Hufflepuff thing."

"Oh hell!" Rona had forgotten about the party. "My friends must be worried sick. I was supposed to go to that." She scrambled off the bed.

"Rona, it's midnight."

Although Oliver had already mentioned it, it didn't registered to her that it already was past curfew. It would be impossible to go back to her dorm until morning without risking detention. Falling back with a defeated thump, she could see the headlines already. _Rona Switt found dead from fatal case of mortification after clandestine all-nighter with Oliver Wood._ She sighed. "Why are you always the one who finds me? You're not even a bloody... Seeker." She hesitated at the last word. When had she used that phrase before?

The dream suddenly started coming back to her, but it was far more vivid, and this time she wasn't flying — she was in the snow. He was calling her name and she was running like her life depended on it looking for the so-called Snitch. She could barely make out the voices, now muffled in her recollection.

"Shouldn't you be making the plays, not doing them?"

Her head snapped up. "What'd you say?"

Oliver raised a brow. "I asked if you're hungry."

She heard his voice echo in her mind again accompanied by a hazy image of him in the courtyard, ruffling her hair and wrapping his jacket around her. _How'd a silly girl like you become the Strategist?_ The image faded away, and her mouth went dry. She wasn't seeing her dreams. She was remembering what actually happened.

She knew there was a likely possibility that he had known she was her team's strategist already. It was odd enough Roger was so protective of her. But Oliver never spoke up about it, so she assumed he didn't make the connection. She had given him the benefit of the doubt after Hogsmeade and now, she fought every instinct that told her that she was being naive.

"Are you okay?" He waved a hand in front of her, furrowing his brows.

"Earlier... " she said, lifting her eyes to meet his, "Did you call me... the Strategist?"

He froze, swallowing uneasily. "You remember that?"

The impact of his answer hit her immediately. He had known. There was only one reason why he would know and didn't tell her. She suddenly felt like crying, and it was only then that she had realized how much she had wanted to trust Oliver. She didn't care if he knew she was the Strategist. She didn't even hold any strong feelings for him. But she had given him a second chance.

Rona tried as hard as she could to keep her expression steady. "How long have you known?"

He stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity before bowing his head. "Seven months."

It had been a sham from the beginning. She bit down hard on her lip as she felt her face flush in anger and with the anticipation of tears. "So that's why you're acting nice is it? Save me from Roger. Saved me tonight. Get up my skirts. Steal a few secrets."

"It's not — " Oliver began.

"Then what? What is it?" Her voice had risen to an almost shrilly high. She was tired. Disoriented. And now came her eleventh hour plot twist which while she appreciated in the novels she read, she certainly did not when they occurred in real life.

"Things have changed," was all Oliver could breathe out before she continued on her tirade.

"Is that what happened? Are you sure it wasn't because your first plan failed? Oh, Rona doesn't like ladykillers, let's try acting nice. You must've been _so bloody happy_ when I told you I fancied you. Your plan's a huge success." Part of her saw that he was hurting every time she spat out a word, but she didn't care. Her eyes squeezed shut to stop the tears and she turned away. It was like the day she confronted him in the hallway. She wanted to run — everything told her to run — but this time, there was no place to go.

"You win, Oliver," she said bitterly. "I can't believe Roger's right. I really am that naive."

"He's not right — Rona, don't... don't cry." He moved to kneel closer to her, grasping her shoulder.

"_I'm not crying!_" she said, letting out a sob for the first time. She jerked her shoulder away. "This isn't... I — " She wiped her eyes with a sleeve. "I don't cry!" She huddled herself up with her back facing him, muffling her sobs by biting down on her arm. Once she began, she couldn't stop. She wasn't sure if she was more angry at him or the fact that she was having such a fit over it. She started muttering to herself, "This is ridiculous. This is not worth c-crying about. C-candy made me loony — "

"Rona," he said, clutching her arm.

"Go away." She tried to pull away again, but he held fast.

"_Rona,_" he said, more insistently this time.

She flung her hand at him. "I'm trying to _wallow_ here!"

Though she was bawling her face off, and he looked as panicked as ever, he somehow let out an amused snort. "Rona, you're an _idiot_."

His arms encircled her, and she tried to escape, but he was too strong and she gave up. His chest heaved against her back, warmth mingling. "Roger is not right," he said softly. "He was, but not anymore. I know you don't believe me, but I've really changed. I... actually like talking to you, even though you're impossible... and... and always insist on having the last word. Even though you pretend that you don't care. Even though I think you're silly."

The corners of her lips twitched. That was... sort of sweet. She had calmed down considerably now; the rush of emotions had its moment of catharsis. There were no more new tears, though she continued to breathe in shallow gulps of air. "You're _hic _so cheesy."

The teasing tone cautiously crept back into his words. "Yeah, but you like it, don't you?"

"Shut up _hic._" She did feel better.

"Take a deep breath."

Rona did so and exhaled, continuing the pattern until her regular breathing returned. They were still in the same position with his arms around her, and though she would never admit it, she was thankful he was there and patient enough to deal with her. The ordeal had left her woozy with her head was still throbbing from the candy's aftereffects. She finally looked up to face him. She said, voice still hoarse, "You've got a lot to explain, you know."

"Yeah," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn't until then that Rona noticed his tense eyes as he watched her.

The bout of silence was broken by a loud grumble. She relinquished her gaze to glance embarrassingly at her complaining stomach. He chuckled, "I'll get you a bite. Wait here." He took his arms back and stood up. His feet were ready to walk, but he stopped suddenly and asked, "We're okay right?"

She smirked weakly. "Until the next time you screw up."

"For a couple days then. I'll take it." He gave her his best broad smile as if to lighten to mood. It worked.

Oliver left, saying that he would be back soon. When the door closed behind him, she flopped back on the bed in exhaustion. She closed her eyes, trying to sort out the mess that exploded in her mind. What did it all mean? He sounded sincere. If that wasn't sincere, he might as well drop out of Hogwarts and become the best actor in all of Britain. Should she trust him now? What should she tell the team? Should she even tell the team? She didn't want to face Roger's I-told-you-so.

She let out a frustrated grunt and rolled over, wantonly spreading her hands over the cool bedding. Her eyes caught the glimpse of Oliver's bed across the room and curiosity overtook her confusion.

Rona crept over, peeping at the open trunk at the foot of the bed. Beside it was his Cleansweep Six, ever polished to perfect condition. She turned her attention to the nightstand, glancing at the library copy of_ Quidditch Through the Ages_ on top. She opened the book to the second page and in the middle of the list of names, she spied _R. Switt. 10-12-1993 — _the last time she borrowed it before getting her own copy that year. She absently smiled at the thought of her and Oliver reading the same book. In the midst of all their troubles, she forgot that they shared such a significant interest.

Moving the book aside, she saw another underneath, this one bounded by a coarse leather. She gingerly lifted its cover and fanned through the pages. It was almost completely filled with scrawls and diagrams. Her eyes widened. This was Oliver's Quidditch notebook. She caught glimpses of player names and notes on games before she lifted her eyes away from the page.

To read or not to read?

A voice piped up in her thoughts._ It's payback for making you cry twice. _

Another, gentler voice spoke. _But he's nice now! And I think he meant it. You know he meant it. And I had that talk with McGonagall. I'm above this sort of thing now. She had faith in me and everything! I'm going to sacrifice that?_

_This is no time for a philosophical quandary!_

_I am not going to have an dialogue with myself._

Curiosity got the best of her once again. She decided on a compromise: read one page and stop. She scanned it quickly, looking for anything that popped out at her. At the top, there was a segment about the Turkish Dragon maneuver used in the Quidditch Cup of 1990. The rest seemed to be devoted to notes on a practice session. Her conscience felt somewhat better at the fact that she learned nothing important.

As she closed the book, she noticed a loose paper and caught it before it fell out. Her eyes locked dead center at the circled name in the middle, amongst a dozen others that were crossed out. _Rona Switt._ The only title to be found was the single underlined word: _Revenge. _

Before she could make any guesses to the meaning of the paper, she heard footsteps, her signal to return back to the bed. In her haste, she kept hold of the note. She looked around frantically for a place to hide it and quickly thrust it into her coat's pocket as she saw the knob turn.

The door swung open, and Oliver entered holding something wrapped in a napkin. "Sorry, all I found is half a cauldron cake from the blokes downstairs," he said, shutting the door behind him. "I hope it's enough." She nodded as she felt the hunger pangs return.

He sat down on the floor and beckoned her to join him. "Percy'll kill me if I get crumbs on his sheets."

She slid down onto the floor face-to-face with him and gladly accepted the cake. It didn't take long for everything to settle into awkwardness. She took bites in silence, their glances never quite meeting, their smiles not quite true. Finally, Rona brought herself to stop counting the crumbs on the palm of her hand and ask, "How'd you find out?"

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. "I... had a couple leads. I haven't been completely sure it was you, but it seemed likely enough. You liked to visit my practices last year didn't you?" She smiled sheepishly. "I'll give you credit, love. I didn't notice for a long time. I saw you hanging around your team a lot, too. I didn't think anything of it at first because you didn't seem the type, and I..." He glanced away. "...thoughtyouwerewithdavies."

She blinked, not sure if she heard that correctly. "Did you say you thought I was with _Roger Davies?_"

"Yeah," he said, still not looking at her. "I thought he might've convinced you to spy for him. And as I found out, clearly he didn't."

A smile began to grow on her face. Oliver looking all sorts of awkward answering questions amused her greatly. It was enough payback for her. "So why'd you approach me about the Strate — " Oliver might have been able to call her that, but the name sounded a little too egocentric when it came out of her mouth. Even she had her limits. "Er, about my position on the team if you already knew about it?"

"Doubt," he said. He paused for a second before continuing, "And... it was an excuse to get closer. Thought I could coerce something out of you. Mind you, I thought you had been with Davies at this point, so I figured, if you fell under his charms, I could definitely — "

"If I ever fancy Roger, please send a dementor my way."

"Point taken." His amusement always reached his eyes, his most attractive trait in her opinion. "That's not even the most ridiculous thing. You remember what Weasley did?"

The memory of Oliver running down the hallway looking like a Christmas tree nearly made her choke.

"Yeah, well I let him do all that to me so I could...you know. If I hadn't let him and he tried to pull that prank, I would've scheduled a dozen extra beater target practices, and he'd be the target." He paused, avoiding her gaze again. "I do regret it though, the..." He trailed off.

"It's okay. I don't even really remember it anymore, " she lied. The memory scratched at the back of her mind where it had taken residence when all she wanted was for it to go away. How odd — A kiss, the long celebrated climax of a romance, had been their low point. "You apologized at Hogsmeade anyway," she said with a finality, burying the topic.

Hogsmeade was a whole other subject. Every action, every word after that day exchanged between them raised questions. She wondered if it was too bold to ask, but her impetuous mouth spoke for her. "So do you fancy me or not, Oliver?"

"That was blunt," he said, suppressing a laugh. "Do _you_ still fancy _me_?"

She still felt the familiar thrum of the her heart whenever he got too close, but it was hardly an accurate indication of _actual_ feelings. She delayed her thoughts by retorting, "I asked first."

He leaned back on his arms, an answer hidden behind his lips. She wasn't quite sure _what_ she wanted him to say.

"I..." he began, "would like to get to know you better."

She felt oddly let down at the anti-climax. "Fair enough," she said. "I...the feeling's mutual." It was a safe answer. She cleared her throat. "I guess it's settled. We get to know each other better."

"Aren't you afraid of leaking your Strategist secrets?"

She was. The last thing she wanted to do was screw up again and make Roger even more correct, but she found herself saying, "I'll take a chance. After all, I could always spy on you."

"Never really pegged you to be the type to spy, am I right? Is Davies the one who wants you to do all the dirty work?"

Oliver thought so well of her, Rona pondered with a slight blush. Unfortunately, he was also wrong. She had volunteered to watch practices. It might've even been her idea. Roger couldn't boss her around. "Yeah, you know how he is," she lied.

His expression turned dark for the briefest of seconds. "I'll never forgive him for what he did to Nat last year."

She remembered how he accused Roger of it. Natalie Fairbourne was a reserve chaser for Gryffindor. Rona had been frustrated at the lack of progress her team was making, and the next game was closing in. She had suggested to Roger to take Natalie out on a date and see what he could find out from her, but she couldn't find the will to tell Oliver the truth.

Strangely enough, feeling guilty was what tipped her in favor of thinking that Oliver deserved another chance after all. He had hurt her, but he apologized. She couldn't even do the same for him.

"Rona?"

She blinked, realizing that had spaced out again. "Hmm?"

He was fiddling with his shirt hem. "You wouldn't mind if we talk about Quidditch, would you?"

"I... suppose we could." She had gotten used to being extra cautious about the topic around him. There was a long pause, and she noticed that he hadn't asked anything yet.

"You sure?"

"Yes?" Was this it? Was this the leap? Her 'follow your heart' moment?

He raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she would have sounded more confident if she didn't phrase it as a question. _All right, Jeremy. I guess I am taking your sodding advice._ She drew herself up and tilted her chin fearlessly. "We've got six hours to kill, and I'm not a lick tired. Try me."

A slow-forming smile appeared on his lips, and for the first time during the whole night, they relaxed.

Rona never expected to whittle away the time as fast as they did, and she never expected to have so much to talk about either. They took detours to other topics. She learned about his secret Chocolate Frog card collection and his prized limited edition set. He learned that despite her skills at strategy, Wizard's Chess completely boggled her. There was always something else to ask, as if they were making up for the lack of interaction during the past seven years, and the conversation always seemed to go back to Quidditch one way or another.

"Oh come on, have you_ seen _Andrea Kovarik do the Porskoff Ploy?" She flung up a hand. "And if I may cite — "

"The 1986 League playoffs," they both said at the same time.

Her hand was still frozen in the air. "So if you _know _how brilliant they are, then what is it?"

"Then I still think you like the Harpies 'cause it's full of girls." Oliver was laying back on the carpet with his arms behind his head and feet propped up on the bed.

"You're just afraid of them because they can beat you up," she scoffed. "And it's not like I have anything against Puddlemere. My uncle likes them."

He prodded at her leg. "That's 'cause your dad's smart. I bet you'll like the team more once I'm on it."

"Please," she said, rolling her eyes and trying to hold back the telltale smile creeping on her face. "The scouters haven't even come yet. Why don't you wait to get accepted first?"

"What team are _you_ vying for after Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Oh," she hesitated. "Er, I... haven't actually..."

He pushed himself back up to a sitting position, frowning. "Switt. Tell me you plan on going into Quidditch."

"I am! ...now," she said, taken aback by his seriousness. "McGonagall talked to me about it. I was actually on my way to Madame Hooch's today when you found me." She scrunched up her eyebrows. "What is it with you lot and my future anyway? I would've been perfectly happy working as an archivist — "

"_An archivist?_" Oliver looked almost offended. "You planned on wasting that crazy mind of yours on translating _history books?_"

Her body withdrew deeper into the side of the bed. "It's a respectable job! And I think I'd like it." She wondered why they were even arguing about the subject at all. "I mean, yes ideally, Quidditch. But do you really think that I'd be able to get a job? I know I have my talents, but that doesn't change the fact that 'strategist' isn't exactly an official position, and that I'll need a lot more than what I know now to be a coach."

Oliver continued to stare at her tight-lipped, quieted by her logic. Finally, he said, "_I'd _hire you."

She wasn't sure why she blushed. "Yeah, well, you're a bit biased."

"I'm serious. No offense to your team but they were bloody awful two years ago when half your team changed. And I don't think Davies got the team he has now all by himself." She was about to speak, but he interrupted her. "I remember your game against Hufflepuff. Your beater er — Samuels. Jason Samuels. One of the densest blokes I know. Made the cleverest moves I've seen in ages and practically cleared the field with a single Bludger. You look me in the eye and tell me he could've done that without something you told him. Being smart about the game is one thing, but being able to effect a team's skills like that? Invaluable."

Her ego was dancing on the inside and she couldn't hide the glee, smiling so much it nearly hurt. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"Good," he said. He leaned forward and ruffled her hair. "This may come as a surprise, but people do care about you. We just want what's best for you."

They continued talking for long after. She was fairly sure she hadn't spilled any team secrets yet, but she did inform him all about the impossible task of putting up with a gaggle of boys, though she admitted defeat after he countered with the twins. Eventually, the lull of sleep defeated her. During a particularly long pause in the conversation, she closed her eyes for just a second. The next time she opened them, Oliver was crouching in front of her.

"Rona, wake up," he said, nudging her.

She blinked, lids sticky with sleep. "Hrmm?"

"It's getting bright. Jules just came back from the party. He's in the loo, so if you want to escape one of his lewd jokes, I suggest you start heading back now."

"Mmmmfh." She clung to the soft quilt that draped off the bed.

"Come on. Up you go, love," he said, grabbing her hands and pulling her up.

Rona, still half-asleep, managed to stumble down the tower's stairs with Oliver's guidance. By the time they reached the portrait door, she was awake enough to think with some coherence. She stopped him from going out the door with her. "I'm okay now. Thanks, Oliver." She took her coat from him and stepped out the portrait, but the night felt oddly inconclusive with such a simple departure.

"Er... Rona?" he said, leaning against the doorway. "You think... we can do this again some other time? Tonight was nice."

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "I'd like that." Her heart started beating faster again, but this time it was different. She didn't want it to go away. She only noticed then that he was staring at her intently with a curious smile and wondered if it would be too bold to think that maybe he returned her feelings after all. But it was too much for her to mull for the moment.

"Good night, Rona," he said softly.

"Good night." She lingered a second more before leaving down the stairs.

When she reached the bottom, she looked back up and gave a little wave, which he returned. Finally, the portrait door closed and the glow from the common room faded. On her walk back to the Ravenclaw tower, she only encountered Professor Flitwick, who commented on how early she must like to wake up.

Her dorm was empty; Hannah and Edie had yet to come back from the party. Rona draped her coat on the end of the bed and slipped under the covers. There were still so many things to consider — what to tell her friends, what to tell her team, what Roger was going to think once he found out. But for that moment, after remembering all the memories of that night, both good and bad, she didn't care.


	11. Happenstance Happens Entirely Too Often

"...I need to take you to more parties. You were a hit!"

"Oh dear..."

Rona had nearly fallen back asleep when she had heard the voices through the the door. Her eyes flew open, but she didn't move. Hannah and Edie stumbled the room, kicking off their. Edie was strikingly pretty; it was clear that with Rona's absence, Hannah used the extra time during the afternoon to make her over twice.

"What is _with_ that dejection? I am a good influence." Hannah stood behind Edie as she rummaged through her trunk. "Just wait until the special issue of _Witch Weekly_ comes out. Then we'll fix you up again, and this time we're gonna go join the big players at a Gryffie bash, and Rona _who's not doing a very good job of pretending to sleep_ will come along, too." Hannah threw her a disapproving glance.

Rona huffed, throwing the covers back. "Fine, you caught me." But she had yet to figure out a way to introduce her night's activities properly and was caught at a loss of words.

Thankfully, Hannah was just as talkative in the dead hours of the morning as any other time of the day. "Honestly, it wasn't even that bad. You have no excuse for avoiding the party. We just stuffed ourselves and went up to crash in the girls' dorm, although Edie here got a _proposition_ before that didn't she?"

Edie shook her head. "It was such a silly spur of the moment thing. I only accepted the date to be nice."

"Just consider it a learning experience," said Hannah. She followed up with an exaggerated sigh directed at Rona. "Did you enjoy the library?"

Rona stared at her blankly.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. Jeremy told me you were there. We went looking for you, but of course you of all people would know all the hiding spots of that place."

"Oh," she said, barely able to sound natural. She quickly resumed to her usual mannerisms. "Yeah, well, when you go looking for snog spots, you'll be running back to me. Alcove by the G-H Reference section." She crossed her arms as an afterthought.

"You think you can — huh, that _is_ a good snog spot." Hannah said, stopping halfway into her hell-hath-no-fury pose. Her attention seemed to drift to more scandalous thoughts before drawing her mouth up into sour smile at Rona. "I still haven't completely forgiven you. You owe me. The Gryffie party, you're going." She rubbed her hands together. "And Ollie will be there. Even better."

Rona was so relieved that her friends had no suspicions of her night that she didn't bother with a retort. She planned to tell them what happened eventually, but she hadn't even told them that she fancied him yet — not that they weren't off making their own assumptions. But she had gotten tired of her love life going on the table for everyone else to see. The change of pace was nice.

"By the way, watch out for any candy you see, Rona," said Edie, while heading over to the shower, arms full with clothes. "You know the jar? Apparently my brother teamed up with the twins to concoct some butterbeer candy and they were passing them out earlier. He's been hiding from me ever since."

Rona sighed to herself. "...I'll keep it in mind."

* * *

><p>During that morning's breakfast, Rona brought down yet another book, having lost the one she had yesterday outside. Even if she could <em>Accio <em>it, it was a Muggle paperback, and she did not expect it to survive the snow nor a drying charm.

The Great Hall was festive but empty, due to the holidays and post-party syndrome. Rona looked for Oliver, but couldn't find him amongst the Gryffindors. They joined Jeremy and Roger, the only two who woke up early habitually, at the end of their table.

"Is anyone else particularly disturbed at the sudden drop of brain cells in Stretton?" Roger said, raising a brow at Jeremy, who was cuddling with Hannah on the other side of the table while his elbow rested on his scrambled eggs.

"You don't even know," said Rona, picking up her pumpkin juice, "It's a matter of what will win: Jeremy's sense or Hannah's estrogen."

"Hannah," everyone except Roger chorused.

Roger frowned. "I don't believe that none of you have faith in him, especially you, Switt."

"Mate,_ I_ don't have faith in me," said Jeremy distractedly as Hannah's slender hand caressed his cheek.

After putting down her glass, Rona turned to the first page of her book. Her glance flitted to her left momentarily, and it was all that it took for her to completely forget about reading. Oliver had finally come down to breakfast. What she also noticed was that he was looking back straight at her. She suddenly became aware of the stupid smirk she had on her face. 'What?' she mouthed at him.

He said something that looked like, 'Are you doing anything later?'

She lifted her book up. 'Reading.'

He smiled wider before turning back around. She was confused at the quick end to their silent conversation until she turned her attention back on her own table. Everyone was staring at her.

Hannah's jaw performed the slow drop and her arms flailed about. "You're — that was _flirting!_ Are you two official?" she squealed, stopping suddenly to shoot a glare over to Roger. "Don't you _dare _ruin this."

Roger shrugged, not the least bit fazed. "Already ruined. Switt here is playing the player."

"_No!_" she cried with an indignant breath. She and Edie turned to Rona for a definitive answer.

"Er..." The web of lies was getting absurd, but Rona was forced to follow it. "Sorry, but Roger's right. I figured that if he's going to keep talking to me, I might as well make the most of it."

"But I thought you actually..." Hannah trailed off, dropping her hands as her joy deflated.

"Your imagination should stop running so wild," said Roger. "I would think Rona is capable of taking care of herself."

Rona wanted to strangle something. Roger finally learned his lesson and was back to his old tolerably overprotective self, but it meant that she would have to keep lying. She knew that if he found out that she really did fancy Oliver or that Oliver knew she was the team's strategist, he would never let her live it down, not to mention he wouldn't ever trust any opinion of hers ever again. He would just spout some nonsense about her _feelings_ getting in the way.

Roger then began rambling about the Slytherin game even though Rona had her nose in her book and clearly wasn't listening. Edie left early to decline the date from the bloke Hannah set her up with. Hannah was clearly displeased, but she did not try to stop her. Instead, she insisted Jeremy follow her back to the common room, and he gladly obeyed. Not wanting to be left alone with Roger, Rona decided to try to find Madam Hooch again. She peeked at the Gryffindor table before leaving the hall. Oliver was not there.

Madam Hooch was in her office at the castle that day. Of course, only after she nearly died in the snow, Rona thought, sighing inwardly. She knocked and Madam Hooch called her into the room. Rona pushed the door open, gazing around at the plaque-filled walls, stacks of boxes, and in the middle, a pepper-haired woman sitting behind a tiny desk. She fought the urge to sneeze as the smell of leather and cleaning potion tickled her nose.

Rona quickly sat herself down at the single seat and explained her situation like she did with Professor McGonagall, although hopefully avoiding the gaping stupidity that plagued that meeting. Midway through, Madame Hooch interrupted her by dropping a stack of parchments onto her desk.

"I know full well of your qualifications, Miss Switt. Don't worry. I've seen you on the pitch. I'm glad you came. We do need more ladies in the league, playing or not. Now," she said, handing her the papers, "you better owl these soon so you can ensure an interview when the scouters come by. Which team are you aiming for?"

Rona was yet again left surprised that she had been noticed at all. She named her favorite team. "Harpies."

"I don't think they're hiring much this year, but you never know. Who else?"

She was unprepared to think of a backup, but the word that came out of her mouth sounded a lot like "Puddlemere."

Madame Hooch nodded. "Mr. Wood's trying for that team, too. Maybe you should have a chat with him."

Rona briefly imagined what it would be like working together with Oliver. Did she get to barge into locker rooms in professional Quidditch, too? Before getting any further into her imagination, however, she pulled herself out of her thoughts. Merlin, she did not just go there. Rona cleared her throat. "Er, I'll try to find him then."

They chatted for a few more minutes, but when Madam Hooch degenerated into waxing lyrical about brooms, Rona excused herself at the first opportunity. On her way back to the Ravenclaw tower, she flipped through the events of the night before for the dozenth time that day. She knew she couldn't keep it to herself much longer, and she soon found herself outside Jeremy's dorm.

Rona rapped on the door twice. "Are you two decent?" she called.

"Hannah already left," replied a muffled voice. The door swung open to reveal a mussed-haired Jeremy.

"Recently, from what I see," she said, inviting herself into the room. "Where's Roger?"

He shrugged. "Never came up here. Are you here to girl talk again? I'm just Penny's replacement, aren't I?"

"You know it," she said with a grin, throwing her papers on the floor and flopping down on the extra bed. "It's a long story really..." She suddenly became self-conscious of how the matter might portray her. She didn't want to sound gullible if she was completely wrong about Oliver, or worse — ditzy.

She resigned to the risks and was about to open her mouth when she heard a slight crinkle. She then recalled that the note that she swiped from his notebook was still in her pocket. It was a good enough launching point for her.

"I... er, found this yesterday. It's Oliver's." She reached inside her pocket and drew it out. Even before smoothing it, she could see the contents clearly. Her own circled name and the triple-underlined '_Revenge_' still stood out, but she could also make out all the other crossed out names scrawled around hers. Amongst them were Penny's and Jeremy's. The others belonged to Ravenclaw alumni.

Jeremy took the paper from her hand and scanned the names. "Do you think this means he knows that — "

"That's the long story actually..." she said, looking away.

He glanced between the note and her. "Rona... where'd you get this?"

As she was about to reply, she heard someone running up the stairs before abruptly stopping. "Are you two decent?" The voice belonged to Edie.

A reprieve. Rona let out a thankful breath. "I would hope so. Hannah would kill me if we weren't," she called back.

Edie peeked through the open door. "Oh good, you're both here. I... um... wanted to ask, where were you yesterday, Rona? While we were at the party."

Rona froze. Maybe she thought too soon.

Jeremy held up a hand. "Sorry, Edie. It's my fault. I was just covering for her while she was at Madam Hooch's." He ended less confidently as he saw that it was not the reply Edie was seeking.

"See that's the problem," she said, walking over to them. "She never came back from Madam Hooch's — " Her eyes flicked to Rona. " — did you?"

Rona looked away guiltily. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain how she never even _reached _Madam Hooch's.

Seeing Jeremy confused, Edie explained, "Jules, Oliver's roommate. Hannah set me up with him, and when I met him today, he mentioned that he saw Rona all cozy with Oliver in their room when he got back from the party — "

"I wouldn't call it cozy — " She froze as both of their jaws dropped. She sighed, "So maybe I should get started on my long story..."

The three of them made themselves comfortable as Rona recounted the previous night, from the candy — Edie vowed to hex her brother off the tower — to when she left in the morning, careful to skim over the private bits of their conversation. She couldn't help but let a few things slip, and her feelings quickly became apparent.

"Did you really think you'd be able to hide it for long? I've lived with you for seven years for Merlin's sake," Edie said, grinning. "You should've just told me you fancied him this much."

"Like you all didn't already assume?" Rona stuck out her tongue. "I didn't_ want_ to like him, I just _do_ — "

"You were practically _gushing_."

"It's not my fault he knows his Quidditch, and I find it mildly attractive..." she stopped before she embarrassed herself any further. "And I was going to tell you eventually, but I still don't think I should tell Hannah."

"Seconded."

"Third-ed."

"We're awful friends," she muttered. Hannah was, unfortunately, a tad too overeager about love lives to be trusted to keep quiet.

Jeremy leaned back on his arms. "So let's get down to business. If you think that he's telling the truth, no more tricks up his sleeve, we'll take it for truth, too."

"We are?" Edie said, blinking. "I assume she's told you more stuff than me, but still. The fact that he's known all this time? It's a bit shifty. And what if he gets tempted? Rona, you leave your notes everywhere. And what if you blurt something out?"

"I'm smart enough to not talk about our team," said Rona defensively.

Edie patted her friend's hand. "You can yell at Roger as much as you want, but he's right to be worried. If you haven't noticed, you aren't exactly the best at keeping your mouth shut." She sighed. "But then again, maybe I'm just thinking too much. Personally, I think it's fairly clear he fancies you back — "

"You really think so?" Rona then mentally slapped herself for her all-too-hopeful tone.

"Just hold your hormones for a few weeks so the team doesn't freak out, yeah?" Jeremy snickered. "Though if you're sure you've convinced Roger that you're 'playing the player' then you'll probably be able to get away with stuff — just make sure he doesn't finds out that Oliver already knows you're the team's strategist."

Edie nodded in agreement. "The only worry I have is the note."

"You think it still means something?" Jeremy's gaze flicked to the parchment laying in front of him. "I think it's just him finding out who the Strategist is. Explains why it's only people in our House here. And he obviously got the answer right eventually."

"But that doesn't explain why it says 'Revenge'," Edie countered. "Why not title this 'Strategist'?"

"I don't know. But why are the other names here?"

The trouble with having Ravenclaws discuss the issue was that they debated.

Edie shook her head. "I still think the fact that she's circled and that he's been looking for the Strategist is too much of a coincidence."

"The two are probably connected. He wants to take revenge by finding out the Strategist. I mean, he hates Roger, doesn't he?"

Suddenly, the answer clicked in Rona's mind. "Oh _bloody karma_," she groaned. "You're right." It was the problem that started it all. The problem _she_ caused. She glanced at her friend's expectant faces and reluctantly explained how Oliver reacted to the Natalie fiasco last year.

"So you're saying," Edie said slowly, "he's taking revenge... on Roger taking secrets from his team... by taking secrets from our team via you."

"Exactly."

"But the whole thing was your fault."

Rona buried her head in her hands. "...kind of."

"And you're going to do the right thing?" Edie had acquired an excellent McGonagall-thin-lipped-glare after years of dealing with her brother. "You're going to tell him the truth, _right_?"

Rona winced. "...soon?"

* * *

><p>Soon didn't come soon. Rona wanted to put it off until she would be sure Oliver wouldn't be too mad at her. If he wanted revenge so long after the incident occurred, it was obviously still on his mind. It didn't help that later that night, she developed a fever. Madame Pompfrey gave her a a few doses of Pepperup Potion, and chided her for being careless in the snow.<p>

Rona ended up stuck in the Ravenclaw tower for the next few days. "Sick over Christmas! Honestly, it's just my luck," she grumbled at Jeremy as he entered the common room. She was seated in her favorite chair accompanied by her stack of books, but she already read most of them.

"Oliver asked me where you've been," he said, waltzing past her to the staircase. "If I didn't know any better, I thought he had the impression that there was something between us. Fancy that. Seemed happy to hear about me and Hannah."

"Oh really?" she said, doing her best to look disinterested. She still turned pink.

"Really. You're such a blusher." He reached to pinch her cheeks, ignoring her threatening glower.

Rona knew her friends would tease to no end. It had been a few years since her last crush and none ever went so far as the Gryffindor captain. The most she had was the occasional Hogsmeade date.

Stranger still, she went through the entire process backwards with Oliver. She got kissed, met him at Hogsmeade, realized her crush, and _then_ got acquainted. He was _different_, and she wasn't sure if that made her scared or just fancy him more.

Rona ran into Oliver two days later as she was walking back to the tower. He was with a friend, but he waved goodbye to him. "Hey," he said, ambling over. "Missed seeing you around. Not sick anymore?"

She wondered if he knew how lethal his charm was when he _wasn't_ trying to seduce someone. All he had to do was exchange pleasantries. "Much better," she said, returning a smile.

They caught up with each other over a long walk across the castle. She complained about filling out three dozen forms for job applications, while he went on and on about how McGonagall confiscated his seeker's Firebolt. The conversation came easy, just like their last meeting. It was amazing how little he resembled the Oliver she first met. She could talk to the one beside her all day.

He kept teasing her, but she could return the favor now. While he fervently explained why stripping down a brand-new Firebolt should be a crime, she couldn't help but laugh. "And_ I'm_ the silly one? You just compared de-hexing a broom to robbing Gringotts."

"Oi, you can't put a price on those brooms," he said, emphasizing the fact with a solid shake of his hand. "That's how valuable they are."

She snickered again. He really was quite endearing at times. "Last time I checked, you can. It's about five hundred galleons."

"Bah, you know what I mean," he muttered, flicking her on the side of her head.

And for all their ease, she couldn't help but be aware of what a crush did to her either. It didn't stop at the beating heart and butterflies. She noticed every expression and every brush of their fingers as they walked closer and closer, and she did not fancy the idea of turning into a pile of goo.

They had no real direction, but Oliver seemed to be leading her somewhere, nudging her toward certain paths. Eventually, they ended up sitting on the floor of an often-ignored hallway in the fourth floor. _A snog spot,_ was the first thought on her mind. She hastily pushed it away. When the conversation stopped, they sat watching the light reflect off the window panes, as if both were waiting for the other to say something. The Natalie topic was on the tip of her tongue but she could not bring herself to say it out loud.

Oliver spoke up first. "We should talk about... this."

_This._ It implied that there was a _this_ between them. It was full of possibilities, and she didn't want to gamble it all away. Rona drew in a breath, replying in an equally vague manner, "This is... complicated." She fought the urge to face him, keeping her eyes glued to the clouds outside instead. He didn't need to know how nervous she looked.

"I... don't want to cause any more trouble for you," he said, smoothing his trousers with a hand. "So if you want to give it a go, then... maybe after our match..."

The silliest of smiles broke out on her face. "That sounds good." She never realized that requited feelings felt like this. She could barely believe it wasn't some butterbeer-induced hallucination.

But even as they continued to sit in silence like two grinning fools, her joy did not last long. Though she never heard anything but sincerity in his voice, doubt encroached. Her thoughts had nagged her when she was sick. Too much time spent alone with her mind had fostered pessimism. As much as she knew she was over-thinking, she couldn't deny that Oliver seemed too good to be true at times. What if he was still tricking her — no. No. That was definitely paranoia. Still, it was going to be impossible to keep Quidditch out of their conversations...

"Rona?" Oliver had noticed that she was fidgeting.

She turned to him, but did not reply, her thoughts still running on overdrive. Merlin, she was losing all sensibilities over this! There's the matter of principle, too. If she waited five weeks for their match to come, it was like giving in to Roger. As if she'd stand for the prat controlling her love life.

"Rona, you all right?" he said, waving a hand in front of her eyes.

"Yeah, just thinking," she said absently. Waiting was safe. Hell, not getting involved at all was safe.

Oliver peered into her face. His breath brushed by her nose. "About what?"

It sent her stomach in a tailspin. "Just Quidditch," she said in a higher voice than usual. Safe was nice, but when was the last time she felt like _this?_

"I thought you were a better liar than this," he said, tipping his head toward hers. His gaze traveled up and down her face. "So what is it, love?"

The slight decrease in proximity was enough to for Rona to catch a scent of fresh laundry and rain. Oliver looked nice. Smelled nice. Tasted — oh dear Merlin, she was going down that path again. She forgave Jeremy for going loony. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to make her do something stupid soon.

And that was how the next words spilled from her lips. "I... convinced Roger... that this... this is me spying on you."

She watched Oliver take in the implications — a squint of confusion that opened to realization, and then a smile that returned wider than ever. "So we don't have to wait after all. As far as he's concerned..."

"...this is purely my job," she finished for him. She thought he was leaning closer but then realized that she was the one moving.

They were barely a nose apart. "And when he sees me with you..." he said, eyes twinkling.

"...I'm just chatting you up for your latest play," she said, swallowing nervously.

"And also when I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend right?" he said, voice dropping to a murmur, every syllable tickling her lips that were so close to meeting his.

"Mmhmm..." Her thoughts had lost coherency long ago and barely digested the fact that he just asked her out.

"Aren't you scared?" His voice was so low, she barely heard it.

There were a million 'what ifs' in the air badgering her, but she was tired of being held back by them. "Terrified," she whispered, before closing the gap between them,

But she fell into air as Oliver drew back suddenly. She shot back up, her wide and surprised eyes meeting his own, her mind racing to figure out what was wrong.

Despite the smile on his face, he seemed stuck in disbelief. "You actually tried to kiss me."

"I thought you were giving signs!" she sputtered, a dam of embarrassment ready to burst. There was no way even someone as relationship-dense as her would misinterpret where things were headed.

He chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. "Signs like these?" His fingers brushed by her cheek, tracing her jaw softly, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

"Now you're just sending mixed messages," she muttered. She tried to wiggle away, though it was with a slight reluctance. "Tch, you just like teasing me aren't you? I was being spontaneous for once. You had to go ruin it and — " Her focus switched to his hand roaming behind her neck. " — _stop that._" She swatted at him and tried to cool the heat on her face.

Oliver laughed again. "I can't help it. I like it when you're flustered." He sighed, mussing her hair as he leaned back against the wall. "You're still worried, aren't you? That something'll go wrong."

His genuine concern shook her once again. Not wanting to give the answer 'yes', she tried to brush it off with a retort. "Did you listen to what I just said? I threw caution into the damn wind. Maybe... maybe you're the scared one."

He mouth twitched upwards. "Is that so?"

"You're the one who backed away from the kiss," she sniffed, flicking her hair back. "I understand. A Ravenclaw girl's a lot to handle. Smarter than your typical catch. Must be intimidating."

His grin spread wider. "Really, now? Are you sure this isn't your way of telling me to kiss you right now?"

She wouldn't doubt that it was her subconscious's thinly veiled attempt. "Are... are you sure this isn't your way of sneaking in a kiss?" she shot back weakly. She crossed her arms. "I don't get it. You fancy me. I fancy you. Roger's taken care of and I clearly don't worry enough to not try and kiss you. We've been in each other's faces for like an hour. You're teasing me, and you want to kiss me, but you _haven't_ kissed me. If that isn't scared, I don't know what is." She smirked and gave herself a mental pat on the back for her quick recovery. There was not going to be any puddle of Rona goo on the floor that day.

Oliver looked nothing short of amused, but silent, as if trying to figure out a response. Then suddenly, his hands reached up, cupping her cheek and pulling her forward.

It was that moment that Rona's instinct to freeze up decided to finally overpower her boldness and before she knew it, his lips met hers. There were still no fireworks, no swelling music, but she felt _something_ as her senses were filled with Oliver, and whatever that something was, she didn't want it to stop.

What seemed like a matter of seconds... _was_ a matter of seconds. Oliver broke off the kiss quickly, his hand still on her cheek, waiting for an answer.

Rona could've complained that he kissed her despite not letting her kiss him. That he kissed her even though he knew she was worried. That he kissed her to essentially shut her up. But she chose instead to pull his mouth back onto hers and she wanted this one to _last. _Their lips didn't fit together exactly, but it was rough and exciting and made her want to pull him closer. His arm lay half-wrapped around her waist while her hand trailed down from his jaw to his neck to the collar of his shirt, and all the while, she wondered what was with the fuss over first kisses when third kisses were like _this._

She stopped first this time, the wooziness finally nagging her to get some air in her lungs.

Oliver was still close enough so that their lips brushed with every word. "You talk too much," he whispered.

She prodded at his chest with a finger, a giddy stupid smile refusing to leave her face. "You... are one frustrating git," she breathed.

"It's a deal," he grinned.

Rona laughed and wondered when the last time she had felt like how she felt then, like her whole body was humming, and she knew the answer was never. The worries that plagued her earlier had yet to return. She mused that it was because of the supreme force of Oliver's distracting charm, which was good for something after all.

"So... bloody... frustrating," she muttered and kissed him again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** OH LA LA~ :D Anyhow, I wanted to extend another thanks to readers and reviewers :) Even though it's a bit of an old fic, it's been revised many times after I completed it, and it's great to see how people react now.


	12. Fortune Takes a Holiday

Rona's smile hadn't left her face for hours. They were still in the empty hallway, and the light filtering through the windows was now fading.

She had never thought much of romance before — she always considered herself above the frivolity — but for the moment, it wasn't so bad. There was something particularly _comfortable_ about a bloke. Maybe it was his aura of warmth or the well-worn softness of his clothes. All she knew was that even in the absence of the 'sexy competition' that caused her crush in the first place, there was still something pulling her toward him.

And yet the little voice inside her kept jabbering on about how it all fit together_ too_ easily.

Rona expected the whole relationship scene to be complicated. She could deal with complicated — last minute three-man plays, Acrumantula-sized web of lies, or even runes that translated to Latin _backwards_. But instead, effortless bliss was handed to her on a gold and scarlet platter, and she had no idea what to do.

So she did nothing. It was working fairly well so far.

"Same place tomorrow?" said Oliver, reaching up to brush away a strand of her hair.

"Mmhmm." When he spoke, Rona's mind dampened every thought that didn't involve his tilted smile or his oddly shaped nose that she was beginning to find cute or something else equally inane. If someone placed a plate of scrambled eggs nearby, she would've gladly placed an elbow in it. "You know, with my luck, we're going to get caught."

"You're paranoid," he said and leaned down to kiss her.

She backed away at the last moment to correct him, leaving his lips to hang in midair. "I am _cautious._"

His mouth twitched upwards. Rona had an inkling that he liked when she played hard to get. "Today was not very cautious," he said.

"It was a lapse in judgement."

"Lovely. First, I'm a dent. Now I'm a lapse."

She fiddled with the back of his collar. "Take what you can get, Oliver. I am a very difficult lady."

"You don't have to tell _me_ that. I was thinking we'd keep it low-key anyway. Don't want to make the gossip worse, and Davies'll get suspicious anyway if he sees too much of me. So don't worry."

Rona smiled. This sort of concern was different than what she was accustomed to. There was a lot she liked that she hadn't ever considered before.

She ran a hand down his shirt, smoothing away the rumples. "Tomorrow, then." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck. He pulled her in for another kiss immediately after, which she weakly protested.

After a few more minutes of stalling, they parted in opposite directions. Rona managed to keep herself composed for most of the way back to the Ravenclaw tower, but she had to bite down on her lip a few times to stop herself from smiling like a lunatic when she recalled the snippets of the day.

When Rona reached the staircase to the tower, she stopped, smile dropping. She was in no state to divulge the activities of her afternoon in a reasonably rational manner to her friends, and it didn't help that the situation was exceedingly vague.

They kissed. A lot. Did that mean she was dating him? Should she call him her boyfriend? Was there even a different? What if there was some unspoken rule she didn't know about, like first twenty kisses don't count toward a relationship, just send in a rebate?

Then sense suddenly lurched back into her mind, giving her a swift mental slap. She went seventeen years without jumping a boy, but she chose now of all times to not wait another month. She could see the inevitable worrying about Roger this, secrets that. It was a thestral wreck waiting to happen.

Rona observed how tightly she gripped the banister and pried her hand off. She needed to stop worrying. Oliver was right. She was paranoid. Just para —

"Rona?"

She jolted up at Edie's voice. Edie was paused mid-step on the staircase with one hand on the opposite railing and the other clutching her brother Nick's ear. The scowl from disciplining the flailing boy beside her was still frozen on her face, but it quickly dropped for a smile that reached her dimples.

"I am going to take a wild guess here," said Edie. "Congratulations?"

Rona's hands flew to her flushed cheeks. "Is it that noticeable?"

"Oh, you always blush. But add that to your that stupid look on your face and how you've been rocking back and forth on your heels for the past minute, I'd guess either Roger's finally kicked the bucket and you've inherited his captainship... or you are completely in love." Her eyes were alight with anticipation. "And Roger was perfectly healthy last I saw him, so that only leaves one option..."

Rona's internal cringe reflex went haywire. Brilliant. She got to brag about how she became a blooming ditz.

Edie must have noticed, because her smile immediately dropped. "Oh right... I guess this is sort of private... It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Disappointment from the sweet, wide-eyed Edie who just wanted a reprieve from dealing with her unfortunate kin was much like that of a bedraggled long-lost puppy limping home in the thundering rain only to find the dog door boarded up in its absence. Even Rona's stony heart broke a little.

As Edie turned to leave, the words rushed out of Rona's mouth. "We sort of kissed."

It was as if the door swung open, revealing the puppy's loving family waiting with an endless pile of toys and treats. Edie's metaphoric tail began wagging at Mach speed as her eyes boggled out in giant, shining awe. "OH. MY. _EEEEEE!_"

Rona was torn between joining in her friend's reverie and calming her down for the sake of Nick's ear, which was in the process of being well-stretched as Edie jumped up and down with it in tow. She laughed, "This is the sort of reaction I expected from _Hannah!_"

"Are you kidding me?" Edie shrieked. "Hannah's going to be ten times worse than this!"

"But you already knew I fancied him!"

"It doesn't matter! I didn't think you'd lose your _thick head _over this so quickly! I thought it'd take you _months_ or something!" Edie placed her hands on Rona's shoulders, shaking them. "This is big! Don't you know how long we've all been waiting for something like this to happen? We all swore you were going to end up a spinster and spend the rest of her life alphabetizing books in a musty old room — oh who cares? This is big. Big, big,_ big!_" There was a pause as she sucked in a thoughtful-sounding breath. "We're rather loud, aren't we?"

"...a tad."

Edie fanned herself. "Okay, let's do this upstairs. Come on, Nick — oh. Little bugger got away," she said, glancing around. "Oh well. Hurry up!"

With a twirl of her robes, she dashed up the stairs with Rona in tow. As soon as the door swung open, the two made a beeline for their dorm.

Hannah's voice interrupted them. "Didn't see you_ all _afternoon, Rona."

Rona and Edie turned around to see Hannah lounging back on the sofa, waggling her brows. Jeremy and Roger were playing a game of Wizard's Chess next to her and looked up in interest, Roger in particular.

"I was in the library reading," Rona said with all the composure she could muster. She could feel Roger considering her every word.

"Uh huh. Reading. In a snog spot?" Hannah said, sing-song and seemingly unaware of the growing tension in the room. "I've got a two galleon bet with Davies here that you're not faking this thing with Ollie."

Rona gaped for only a second before pulling her mouth back up. 'Discretion' was not in any dictionary within a forty-kilometer radius of Hannah. She had done and said some stupid things before, but this definitely topped it all. Rona should have expected that Hannah wouldn't take the situation with Oliver seriously but regardless, Roger certainly would.

Roger began to stand up. "Rona — "

"Sorry, Hannah. Oliver's nice to look at, but if you have to deal with him, you'll see he's not worth two galleons," Rona said nonchalantly, ignoring Roger. She saw at the corner of her eye that he sat back down.

"Bint!" Hannah said with a playful pout. "Oh come on, can't you at least _try?_ I'll share half the earnings. Don't you want to buy some book or something?"

Did that book shut her mouth faster? Rona wasn't sure how long she could keep up the conversation before cracking. Thankfully, Hannah's attention switched to Jeremy as he leaned forward to whisper something in her ear.

Meanwhile, Edie joined in the diversionary tactics. "Stop blabbering, I need help_ tonight, _please." She tugged at Rona's arm urgently. "Arithmancy isn't going to study itself."

"Oh right... sorry," said Rona, clearing her throat. She looked back once to see Roger furrow his brows before she slipped into the darkness of the staircase. Only when the door to their room shut behind her did she let out a breath. Jittery aftershocks crept down her arm at the close call. "That was the_ worst _acting I've seen from everyone."

"Think she and Roger bought it?" Edie's forehead creased in worry.

Rona leaned back against the wall and sunk to the floor. "I wouldn't be so relieved if they weren't the most gullible people in Hogwarts."

Edie sat down beside her and patted her hand. "You're only stalling the inevitable." After a few more moments of calm, the manic look from earlier reappeared. "So... let's get back on topic. _Details._ Dreamy eyes, sweet nothings, what have you."

A blush and smile rose. "We aren't like that! I like _talking_ to him." And kissing. And the nice eyes. But that was beside the point.

"Fine, don't dish. Penny will weasel it out of you when she comes back. How'd he react to that Natalie thing?"

Rona drew in a sharp breath. She knew she had been forgetting something.

Edie frowned. "Wait, you didn't — "

She shrunk back. "It's not that big of a deal..."

Edie's eyes grew severe. "You told him. Tell me you told him."

Rona tried to look away, but Edie clenched her arm in a manner that demanded attention.

"Don't you do this to me. Don't you _dare_ slip into denial. This could be your happiness on the line," said Edie, her breath-to-word ratio dropping dangerously with each sentence. She tightened her grip, causing Rona to wince. "Do you know what responsibility is being placed on me right now? Penny isn't here to knock sense into you. Jeremy's downstairs and can't give you advice. It's just _me_ here. And... and... _Merlin, I can't do this._"

Rona tried to soothe her. "Will it help if...if — "

"Happy... things. I need happy things," she squeaked as she began hyperventilating.

It meant dreamy eyes and sweet nothings. Rona questioned the wisdom of letting loose her inner girly demon, but Edie was rapidly losing it, and she had no other plan. She conjured up her mental image of Oliver and took a deep breath. "So, I suppose I've got a weakness for that smirk of his..."

Even after Edie regained a healthy level of breathing, Rona continued talking, egged on by her friend's wistful sighs and affirmations. Whatever concerns about Natalie were soon forgotten.

"Quidditch nuts." Edie shook her head after Rona finished talking about Oliver's hopes for Puddlemere. "You know, you two are strangely perfect for each other."

"Hardly." Rona stuck out her tongue, secretly delighting at the thought. "He doesn't even like the Harpies. The_ nerve._"

"Exactly," Edie laughed. "Perfect."

* * *

><p>Rona managed to avoid the questioning of Hannah and Roger while also continuing her brief meetings with Oliver. Despite the sudden intrusion of a relationship upgrade, their main activity continued to be talking. She knew most of her friends since her first years of Hogwarts. Oliver, however, was different. He wasn't in her group of friends. He wasn't even in her House. They shared stories that Rona hadn't heard or told a dozen times already, and she always wanted to hear more.<p>

And when they were done talking there was, of course, more kissing.

Rona mentioned her Hogsmeade date with Oliver offhandedly during breakfast on Friday, stressing that it was for business, not pleasure.

"What have you found out so far?" asked Roger. He sounded at ease, but his eyes didn't leave hers as he waited for an answer.

Rona stiffened at his wary tone. "His..." Her thoughts almost froze up, but managed to snatch the memory of Oliver helping Penny with her luggage. "His right arm," she said quickly. "It's weak. Old injury is my guess. He'll buckle under our more complex plays. I have some things in mind."

Roger nodded slowly. "Good. Keep it up." He then resumed eating his toast.

Rona couldn't quite place what was different about Roger, but he definitely seemed to be restraining something. Before her runaway suspicions could get the better of herself, she chided to herself that he was just finally trying to be less overprotective.

She asked Jeremy later just to be safe.

"Nah, Roger gets like that every once in awhile," he said as they sat in the common room. "Just remember the lessons from the telly and enjoy yourself."

"Follow my heart?" Rona said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't put out on the first date."

She smacked him on the shoulder. "Jeremy!"

"And no means no." He ducked away from her swats and continued, laughing, "You should —_ ow _— be loved for _who you are_."

"Don't you need to find your girlfriend and corrupt yourself or something?" she scowled, grabbing a book and lifting it over her head threateningly.

"Fine, I'll stop," he said, still smiling cheekily. "And I wouldn't call Hannah my girlfriend. Doesn't sound right. We're dating. That's it."

She cocked her head in interest, book still frozen in the air. "So there _is_ a difference."

"What, girlfriends and dating?" He shrugged. "Not really."

"I miss the days when you still made sense," she said, grimacing. "I suppose anything that sounds so committed will probably freak Hannah out anyway. Shouldn't you, I dunno, talk to her about it?_ Define_ things?"

"We're quite happy the way we are. If you are trying to project your underlying dissatisfaction with not knowing exactly where you stand with Oliver, then I suggest you go talk to him."

Rona opened her mouth to retort but didn't find any words to say, because he was mostly right. She tossed her book to the side sulkily. "Damn you, Jeremy."

He grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "You're welcome."

The next day, Rona hit a snag in her morning routine. The quandary lay before her in her open wardrobe.

Her date outfit.

She was too proud to admit she cared about how she looked, let alone seek an opinion on an outfit. She was particularly careful to keep her internal dilemma from Hannah, who was milling about the room doing her own preparations for the day. Hannah would no doubt jump at the chance to give advice.

Currently, Rona was debating between a beige knit sweater or a grey coat. Then she needed to decide what color boots she should wear and whether she needed to borrow any clothes to fill out her ensemble. She tapped her foot on the floor as the seconds rolled by.

Should choosing her clothes merit expending this much brainpower?

Since the answer was a definite negative, she threw on whatever was comfortable and somewhat coordinated.

Hannah peeked out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in her mouth. "Arrehn't you groing ohn your date wift Owiver today?" she asked, judgmental eyes squinting.

"You are not slagging me up," said Rona, her feet already moving toward the door.

Hannah spat out the toothpaste. "Oh come on, not even a cute non-slaggy scarf? I have galleons on the line here — "

"I'm not and won't be in love with him," Rona said, a pitch too high as she ducked out the door before Hannah could protest. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to worry about Hannah for the rest of the day; Jeremy had promised to keep an eye on her.

Rona had agreed to meet Oliver by Dervish & Banges at ten-thirty. She arrived early and passed the time wandering inside the shop. She was still in possession of the galleons from selling Oliver to the twins and thought it appropriate to at least spend some of it toward a late Christmas gift for him.

Oliver was leaning against the building's pillar when she exited the shop. Whatever thought that was running through her mind was forgotten as soon as he smiled at her.

It wasn't as if she didn't find him fit before, but now she couldn't ignore it. She was a sucker for a scruffy-looking bloke, especially one who always looked a bit smug. Hormones had been her all-purpose excuse for her behavior as of late, but it was hardly any comfort that microscopic chemicals were dictating her every move.

He was moving toward her now, and she thought it wise to stop letting the drool collect and say something. "Hey," she said, her usual wash of confidence finally returning. After remembering her new purchase in her hands, she tossed to him. "Merry belated Christmas."

The trajectory went awry, but like a true Keeper, Oliver caught it anyway. He smiled as he turned it over in his hand. "I don't recall us planning a gift exchange," he said, brandishing a paper bag from behind him.

She smiled at the coincidence. "Well, great minds, right?" she said, taking the bag and peeking inside. Shiny wrapped yellow candies winked back at her. She laughed, inwardly groaning at the memory of her drunken night.

Oliver ripped away the last pieces of parchment. "A clock," he said, grin spreading across his face.

She bit her lip sheepishly. "To replace any old ones that might have suffered because of me." She lifted the bag. "Honeybugs?"

"Real ones. And definitely not butterbeer flavored." He took her hand, pulling her to the pavement. "Now come on."

Rona put the candies in her pocket and followed. "Where to?" she asked. The area they were heading toward had a few shops, but at the moment, she could only recall Madam Puddifoot's. She shuddered. If she told someone to go to hell, that was where she was cursing them to. The perfume always choked her lungs, the adjacent couples brought plenty of secondhand embarrassment, and the decor was the sole reason for her intense dislike of the color fuchsia.

Oliver pointed right across the street from Rona's feared destination. "Hagglestrom's & Co., of course. They've got the latest brooms out on display. We can get a pint after."

The relieved expression on Rona's face was nothing short of awe. "Quidditch obsessed, a morbid sense of humor in gift-giving, and a date that_ isn't_ at Puddifoot's. Merlin, why didn't I fancy you earlier?"

"I do believe you_ violently _opposed my charms. You do like the Honeybugs though, right? I was thinking of giving you flowers, but I didn't know what you'd want."

"Flowers," she declared with a prideful air, "are what I'd find myself guiltily dumping in the wastebasket when it becomes a wilting mess."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "I bet you'd like them if_ I _gave them to you."

Of course, he _would_ phrase it like a challenge. "Disclaimer, I'm not like a lot of girls you've dated," she said, shaking her head.

Oliver's steps slowed momentarily as a smirk crept across his face. "How many girls do you think I've dated?"

_There was that one girl — no, wait... what about..._ Her mind went blank again, but this time it wasn't because of hormones.

He winked. "Think about that, love."

The sudden influx of teasing, flirting, and unanswered questions caught Rona off guard, and her newly calm heart started racing again. She could fancy Oliver without the 'sexy competition' but it certainly upped the excitement with it. She crossed her arms in pretend irritation, though the expression on her face belied her. "How many girls _have _you dated?"

He swung an arm over her shoulder. "I've got to keep up this aura of mystery somehow. I'll tell you one day." He couldn't keep his laughter under wraps.

Rona grumbled under her breath, but she acquiesced because throwing around the word 'dating' made her remember a more important question. "So what does that make us, Oliver?" she said, trying to sound casual. "Do I call you my boyfriend? Are we just dating?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not." She was still a little disappointed. It was a mere detail, but she wanted a tag for the_ this_ between them. It didn't feel as real without definitions, and after jumping in headfirst and risking so much, she needed that bit of reassurance.

He tugged her closer as if he sensed her thoughts. "Don't worry about it."

They soon arrived at Hagglestrom's & Co. which distracted her from any lingering dissatisfaction. If Madam Puddifoot's was hell, then Hagglestrom's was the opposite. It sold everything Quidditch, from the practical to the novelty. When Rona saw the Firebolt in the window, she bolted out of Oliver's grip to press her nose against the glass and marvel.

"She's a beaut, isn't she?" he said. "Can't believe McGonagall's stripping one of those down."

"Should be a bloody crime," Rona breathed, echoing his words from days before. She continued fogging up the glass until a jingle caught her attention.

Oliver was holding open the door, chuckling. "You know, you can look at it_ inside_ the shop, too."

If he didn't share the same sentiment about Quidditch, she might have been embarrassed at her fanaticism over what was essentially an enchanted piece of wood. Indeed, as soon as they were inside, he shot past her to the display in the middle of the floor before the door had time to close behind them. "Vintage Puddlemere jerseys!" he exclaimed, sifting through the pile. "I hope they've got Dachin's... best Keeper in the last century."

"You're forgetting Wesley Ingerlot."

"Eh, he's a close second."

Rona rolled her eyes at his fervent devotion to a team, but his unabashed enthusiasm was rather endearing. While Oliver continued searching, she wandered deeper into the store, prodding at the trinkets for sale. He soon joined her and they delved through the shelves, swapping anecdotes with every new-found item.

Oliver held up a toy Snitch. "I dared my cousin to swallow one of these when we were kids. Mum came through the door just as he was about to do it. Snatched it out of his hand so quickly, I would've thought she was a Seeker in a past life."

Rona shook her head and laughed, "Boys." She took one, wound it up, and let it go. It fluttered out of her palm and whirled around in circles between them. "Do you usually take girls here?' she asked.

"Hmm?"

"This is just a bit unconventional for a date, you know." She shrugged. "Not that it's bad; I like it. A lot, actually. It's just I don't know if other girls usually go for this stuff."

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he preoccupied himself with watching the Snitch. "I've... only brought one girl out."

"Who?" A stampede of possibilities rumbled through her thoughts, attempting to fill in the characteristics of the mystery girl. Did she love Quidditch? Was she nice? Pretty? Violent?

His eyes swung to hers. "Take a guess."

He was staring at her like the answer's obvious and she didn't want to say that she hadn't a clue what it was and her thoughts were going nowhere and —

Her eyes widened. She lifted a finger and pointed to herself. "Me?"

He smiled a little wider.

"I can't be the only one!" she gaped, incredulous.

"I don't think I know how to respond to that," he said, laughing. "Certainly didn't think you'd be so adamant against being my first date."

"I'm not against it," she said, thoroughly confused that he wasn't joking. "Just, _worldview shattering before my eyes_. You had that whole put-on-the-charms ladykiller act — "

"Emphasis on _act._ Honestly, I was surprised a reputation preceded me."

"So let me get this straight," she said slowly, grasping at the air as she attempted to sort out her thoughts. "It was all in my head? I guess Roger was always the one who insisted that you were full of debauchery, but I still can't believe — I mean,_ I've _gone out more than you have. Not that I've ever gone on a second date with anyone, but at least I've gone to some." Her eyes snapped up at the memory of her first kiss. "Wait... _was that your first kiss, too?_"

"I don't think it matters as much to blokes as it does to girls, but no, it wasn't." Oliver put his hands in his pockets, feet fidgeting. "I suppose my love life can be summarized like this: I've fancied girls who fancied me back. I've even stolen a kiss or two. But I've always been too thick to make it past that."

"Until me."

"Until you."

"Why me?"

He snickered, took her hands and pulled her closer to him. "You ask too many questions, love. Blokes don't really think much about these things. We just go along with them."

Rona accepted his non-response grudgingly, only because the thought of being Oliver's first date did make her feel a little special. Plus, Oliver's arms were snaking around her waist, and her thoughts became precariously blank again.

But their moment didn't last long. At the sound of the door's jingle, heat flooded her face. She was fine with snogging away an afternoon, but any little bit of a public display of affection was a big no-no. She pulled away from Oliver, who let her go reluctantly.

Rona didn't think much of the person who just entered the shop, but a quick glance told her the figure had yet to move from the doorway. She did a double take.

It was Roger.

Oliver noticed him as soon as she did and he visibly tensed. Rona grasped his wrist as a precaution; the last thing she wanted was a Great Hall showdown, part two. She puzzled through what the scene would look through Roger's eyes. Supposedly, she was spying on Oliver, who was still none the wiser. She had told Roger to stay out of her way and act indifferent if he ever ran into them.

But Roger wasn't doing either as he stood in the doorway with his fists clenched and anger clear in his taut expression. "Rona," he said, voice straining to keep level. "I need to talk to you. Privately."

Her anger flared, but panic quickly took over. There was no good ending to this. She told herself to keep calm. Before she moved to leave, she squeezed Oliver's wrist. "Don't follow," she whispered.

Oliver, eyes still trained on Roger's, didn't respond.

Rona quickly moved out the door, not wanting to get stay in the crossfire of a staring duel again. She never understood the natural animosity between Quidditch captains.

When Roger shut the door behind her, he led her a few paces away from the building, just far enough to be out of sight from Hagglestrom's windows. He spun around to face her with a simmering anger, only slightly calmer than before. "Why'd you lie to me?" he snapped.

Rona resisted showing any nervous tics as best as she could. She tread carefully. "Lie about what?" she asked, hoping for more context.

"Don't play dumb!" he hissed, "You really think I haven't noticed you falling head over heels for Wood? That this was never about spying on him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I suspected it for a long time, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Because you were right, Switt — I _was_ being too hard on you." The muscles on his face twitched as a disgusted sneer painted his expression. "But this morning, I overhear some conversation from our friends, and lo and behold, I was right. You never deserved that trust after all."

Cornered, her instincts told her to fight back. Rona had put up with him for too long to be sympathetic now. "You didn't give me much of a choice," she retorted. "You don't care what I think. What's the point?"

"It's not just about me. This is about the team — "

"Do not start on this _team_ crap," she said, raising a protesting hand. "You were the _only one_ ever to have a serious problem with this. You just riled the others up to follow your lead."

"Because I know what's best," he spat, his heavy breaths more audible every second. "So when'd you tell him?"

"For your information, he already knew that I'm the team's strategist. Seven months ago, in fact. There's a lot more to him than you think. You ever consider that we're the ones who started it first? It's not like you haven't gone charming his reserves before."

Roger seemed less than convinced. "Gee, you've known him for a few weeks, he's lied to you every step of the way, and you already believe everything he says." He laughed bitterly. "I never thought you'd be this easy. Tell me then, since you're such a fine judge of character, what you think of Mr. Wood."

"He's better than you! At least he admitted he did wrong."

"And you trust him?"

Rona stiffened. Doubts never stopped haunting her. She didn't like them, but she couldn't ignore them either. "Yes," she answered, but she had hesitated.

"You're lying. But at least that means you have some sense left."

"My sense says _sod off_," she gritted. "Just angry that you lost your two galleons to Hannah?"

"You think this is a joke, do you?" Roger stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "I came here to say that you're kicked off my team."

Her eyes widened. "_What?_"

"What's done is done. Whatever you've told him — "

"I haven't told him anything!" she sputtered. Roger had to be lying. He was just trying to intimidate her. He wouldn't go through with it.

"Whatever you've told him, it's already lost. But I've got a game against Gryffindor in a month's time, and I'm not keeping a _liability_ on my pitch."

Rona couldn't believe was she was hearing. A liability. After years of helping him, she was just a liability to him. "You know what, Roger? It doesn't matter," she said, steely. "I _quit. _I've put up with you and all this crap long enough."

He shook his head as he brushed past her. "Enjoy your date."

"You're going to regret this," she called after him.

Roger stopped, glancing at her from the side. "Not as much as you. You'll see when you get your heart broken." He continued walking without turning back again.

Rona's thoughts continued to fume until the silence sunk in and she noticed that she had been trembling. As she made her way back to Hagglestrom's, Oliver exited the shop, brows stitched together in concern.

"Roger... fired me," she uttered, voice small and steps slowing as the implications finally crashed down on her. She couldn't bear losing a match because of some stupid row with Roger. And it was more than the Cup; scouters were coming. If the team wasn't at the top of their game, it was going to hurt her and Jeremy's chances to enter the professional leagues. It was a big mess, her fault, and she had no idea what to do.

Rona felt Oliver take her in his arms wordlessly. She buried her face into his chest as her strength failed her and tears pricked her eyes. "_Damn it._"


	13. O Captain, Not My Captain

As students poured out of the Hogwarts Express, Rona stared at the prefect compartment's door, waiting for the only person who mattered at the moment and cursing the fact that prefects were always the last ones out. She stood wrapped in her scarf and new coat sent from home, but it was still too cold for her liking.

When Rona caught sight of Jason and Randolph exiting from the adjoining carriage, the former boy began flailing his arms about obnoxiously in greeting, while the latter was trying to disassociate himself as much as possible.

Jason charged through the crowd, backpack swinging behind him and jumped to the spot in front of Rona with all the enthusiasm of the world. "Ready to beat Slytherin?"

Her sour expression deepened. Roger had picked the perfect time to kick her out of the team — two weeks before the Slytherin game, right as they were about to pick up practices again. The two boys were clearly unaware still, and she did not feel charitably informative that morning. "Can you two be headaches somewhere else? I'm waiting for Penny."

Jason elbowed Randolph. "She must've forgot her Cheering Charm this morning."

Certainly her patience. "Go annoy Roger. I'm sure he'll love to inform you why I'm like this. And I warn you now: if you so much as say a single inappropriate remark to me later, you will find out how fun gravity is from the Astronomy Tower."

"That touchy, eh?"

Randolph had long been inching away. "Come on, leave her be. I don't want to die."

"_Fine_," Jason sighed exasperatedly and resumed swinging his arms as he strode down the platform with the rest of the returning students.

Randolph gave a quick wave to Rona before leaving. "See you at practice."

She scowled, nostrils flaring.

He crumpled, backing away. "Did... did I say something I shouldn't have?" he said, leaning over to Jason.

Jason patted his back. "You just can't help it."

Their voices faded away as they blended into the crowd and Rona resumed tapping her feet in impatience. Penny's blond hair flashed in sight through the glass windows every few seconds, but she was still checking through the compartments.

Finally, Rona heard her voice call, "Percy, darling! I'm going to go. I'll see you after dinner!" Penny emerged from the carriage, stepping down onto the platform, pulling her luggage behind her.

"Penny, _finally_ — "

"You little_ twat_." Penny greeted her with her most withering gaze. "You _fancy Oliver_ and didn't even tell me —"

Rona flushed. "Ah, er, about that — "

" — and then you _end up in his bed_ —"

"Percy's bed actually — "

" — and you two _kissed_. Kissed! I know you hate letters, but honestly, you can't put that aside just _once_ to tell me these things? I had to hear this all from Edie's _single_ letter a week ago — "

Rona didn't even try to interrupt this time.

" — and what's this about Jeremy asking Hannah out? You actually _let him go through with it?_" Penny laid a hand on her heart. "May Merlin have mercy on that poor boy's soul — "

"Roger fired me."

Penny mouth froze mid-sentence and morphed into a frown. "_What?_"

"Long story short, he found out about me and Oliver, and I'm now a 'liability' and he's banned me from all future practices."

"...you're kidding me."

"I wish."

Penny grit her teeth together and sighed. "All right, back up. Tell me everything."

Rona had repeated the convoluted story of her courtship so many times to Edie and Jeremy that she could recite it like a speech. "Well, Oliver found out I fancied him the day you left — "

"Dear Merlin, this _is_ a long story."

As they walked back to Hogwarts castle, Rona described the pitfalls of the past two weeks in all its nitty gritty, from how she first lied to Roger to her unfortunate interrupted Hogsmeade date two days ago.

"Tch, the day boys finally become a crisis for Miss Switt," Penny said with a smile and shake of her finger.

She glared pointedly back. "Oi, I'm having an _actual _crisis here."

Penny waved her off dismissively. "Roger's not stubborn enough to risk a match over this. He'll see how much he needs you by the end of practice tomorrow. Playing angry? The boys' morale? It's going to be an utter broom wreck."

Rona sighed. _Everything_ was fixable to Penny. "You just don't know how bad it's really been," she muttered.

There was only the click of their steps to fill the silence as they went up the stairs. Penny gave her few sidelong glances before rolling her eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll humor you. _How_ bad?"

Rona opened her mouth to reply, but didn't know how to describe her weekend except that there was a lot of hair pulling, door slamming, and entire arguments battled out in silence.

Meanwhile, Penny addressed the bronze knocker, which awoke from its sleep.

"_What can be dropped in an unending crevice to find its end?_"

Without missing a beat, Penny answered, "A sound to echo back."

"Sodding unreasonable Quidditch captains," Rona muttered.

The door swung away and revealed a common room in a riotous state normally reserved for locker rooms. Luggage was strewn across the stairway to the boys' dorm. Jason shaking a tired-looking Jeremy by the shoulders, wailing nonsensically. The only way the latter was still standing up was due to the sheer friction of the ultra-plush carpet. Atop the boys' staircase, Roger yelled over the din about 'responsibility' and 'necessary precautions'. Randolph was sheet white, frozen in place as his eyes darted between Rona and the chaos.

Rona glanced over at Penny whose left eye twitched ever so attractively.

"I leave for two weeks, _two weeks_, and everything goes to bits!"

The boys' attention snapped to the doorway.

"Oh, welcome back, Penny." Jeremy gave a little wave as Jason held him at arms length.

Penny flashed a curt smile. "Thanks, Jeremy."

"I'm supposin' Rona told you everything."

"As best as she could manage in a fifteen-minute walk."

Jason's attention darted between them. "How can you two be so _calm_ about this?" he cried.

"Excuse my inability to overreact." She strode into the room, hands on hips, aura of intimidation at full force. Rona was good at instilling fear in the boys on the team, but Penny was good at instilling fear in _everyone_. "Round up the gang. I do not want to repeat myself."

A derisive laugh came from the stairway. "And what authority do you have over my team?" sneered Roger.

"Part of my role as a prefect is mediation," said Penny with a fake sweetness. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He turned about like a drunkard, throwing his hands in the air. "Everything's bleeding brilliant! I've got two games to plan for, and my team's gone nuts." He spun back around, slamming down on the railing. "Oh, and you know, your friend here is shagging our competition."

"Well that's not exaggerating at all," grumbled Rona. The past weekend had worn her out so much that she didn't even bother fighting back — not that it mattered; Roger wouldn't even look at her, let alone listen to her.

Penny took a step toward him. "Roger — "

"I'm not sticking around to hear another person try to defend her." He stormed up the stairs, giving a kick to the luggage.

Jason scrambled toward the retreating captain. "Ach! Roger!" he called, catching the falling chest.

There was no reply except the receding sound of his stomps. Everyone stood in silence until Jeremy broke it with a low whistle and fell back onto the sofa. "The captain has abandoned ship."

Penny snapped back to action and gestured to the fourth years — Duncan, Grant, and Cho — who all witnessed the entire scene on the other side of the room. They crowded into place by the side table, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process, exchanging glances along the way.

Penny raised a brow. "Is there something someone would like to say?"

Grant elbowed Cho, who was squished between him and Duncan. "You're a girl," he said. "She'll go easy on you."

Cho wrinkled her nose and turned to Duncan pleadingly.

"Bugger you two," Duncan grumbled under his breath. He glanced up at Rona, and she could already tell how much she would dread whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

"So..." He cleared his throat. "...we were wondering if Roger got his knickers in such a twist so much 'cause of... of... your_ history_ with him."

Penny pressed her forehead into her palm. Jeremy barked out a laugh. Rona stared long and hard. "_What _history?"

Awkward shuffling commenced again. "I told you so," hissed Grant.

"I do _not _have a_ history_ with_ Roger,_" she repeated with extra emphasis this time.

"We know, we know!" Duncan held his hands up. "...now."

"How could you even think...?" Rona shut her eyes and sighed. They probably wanted to justify why she stuck by someone so intolerable for so long. It was only a testament to how much she loved the game.

Penny herded her and everyone else to the sofas. Rona took a seat next to Jeremy, who gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Could be worse."

"It's my fault that you and Roger stopped speaking to each other — "

"Nah," he said, smiling weakly. "Edie and I should have been more careful. It's our fault he found out about you two in the first place."

"Might as well go back further. I just shouldn't have kissed him." Or fancied him. Or talked to him. Or let him know she existed.

Rona sunk deeper into the sofa crevice. She could have been a very satisfied archivist, but she had to get her hopes up, and now she would just be another grumbling worker who didn't get a dream Quidditch job because of some bleedin' last minute row with Roger —

Penny rapped on the table. "Are you listening, Rona? I was saying that if Roger doesn't come to his senses soon enough, you'll watch the practices from somewhere hidden and you'll meet with the team in Flitwick's classroom in the evenings for strategy. I'll clear it up with the Professor myself." She returned to addressing the others. "These meetings will be mandatory and you'll all listen to Rona and forget whatever Roger tells you to do."

"Can she even do that?" Randolph whispered to Grant.

_"I'm_ not going to question her."

"As for the issue that began this problem in the first place," Penny continued, "it's no one's business but hers — "

"I object!" shouted Jason, raising a finger.

"This isn't a wedding — "

"Oi, hear me out!" He took center stage despite a dirty look from Penny. "Look, as a team, we're like the father of the bride."

Everyone stared blankly at him.

"The bride being Rona."

"Metaphors... are not your forte," said Jeremy.

Jason huffed and stuck out his hands. "We've got to see that Oliver — being the groom — isn't marrying for money, er _secrets_... or any of that before we give her away!" He scanned around, before grunting frustratedly and marching up to Rona. "What I'm trying to say is, why should I take your side? What if I think Roger's right? That Oliver shouldn't be trusted? Convince me. Convince _us_." He swept an arm over to Randolph, Duncan, Grant, and Cho. "We're a team. We deserve more than this."

Rona sighed. Of all the days for Jason to make a legitimate point.

Jason seemed to take her pause as an affirmation. His arm shot up in the air. "_BRING IN THE BOY!_" he bellowed.

She placed two fingers on her forehead. Nice things. This was why she couldn't have them. Just as she was about to protest, the door to the common room swung open, revealing Hannah and Edie.

"Bring in the boy? What's all this then? Ritual sacrifice?" said Hannah.

Rona lifted her arm in a half-hearted wave. "Close enough, it's a wedding."

"We came to say some sixth years asked us what all the kerfuffle up here was about and I told them that Roger broke a nail. I know it doesn't matter 'cause your secret's already out, but really,_ indoor voices._" The mischievous glint in Hannah's eye was worse than usual.

Rona saw movement behind the two newcomers and raised a brow. "What are you hiding?"

"Hiding?" she blinked, not at all able to pull off a look of innocence. "Whoops, that's right! I nearly forgot — guess who we found!"

Even though the stairway was shrouded in darkness Rona could already recognize the stance, the shirt, and familiar scruffy hair before Hannah shoved Oliver to the front. He glanced around sheepishly, smiling slightly at Rona.

A lump rose in her throat. She wasn't prepared to let Oliver face the team this early. They were going to judge everything he did and say he wasn't good enough for her or some other hogwash. It was like introducing him to — she groaned at Jason's now appropriate metaphor — _her parents._

Hannah patted his shoulder. "Couldn't figure out the riddle, poor bloke."

"I was close," he muttered.

"It's all right. Jason never goes out alone or else he'd never be able to open the door again."

Rona noticed that Jason was rubbing his hands together. She immediately sprang up from her seat with a furious glare. "_No._ We are not doing this now."

"Doing what now?" said Oliver, raising an eyebrow.

"They want proof that you can be trusted," she said with a grimace and circled around the couch, feeling the jitters creep down her knee — and not just because her leg was asleep.

There was every reason to be nervous. Oliver was still, for all intents and purposes, the enemy. Just last year, she had told the Beaters to Bludger him when his back was turned. She was still likely to tell them the same this year — he had damned good reflexes otherwise — but she had to figure out how to throw in a caveat to not kill him _off _the pitch.

Plus, it was also the first time anyone saw them together without yelling being the main component of their interaction. Rona didn't know how to act. Showing any sort of affection was _weird_. She was still self-conscious at how taken with his charm after being so adamantly against it less than a month ago. But she also needed to prove that she fancied him well enough to be worth the trouble he brought.

When she approached him, her smile only half-forced, Hannah and Edie skipped away, the latter whispering a hasty apology over her shoulder. As soon as they were on the couch, it was as if an invisible line was drawn across the room dividing stage and audience. Unfortunately for Rona, the spotlight was on her side.

Looking for some sort of aid, Rona glanced over at Penny who shrugged and folded her hands together. "Best to get this done early," she said with a smirk.

Rona scowled, doubting that Penny's thoughts were on her well-being rather than wanting to watch her embarrass herself. Meanwhile, Jason instigated a circle of furtive whispering that she could only infer as their plan of attack.

Oliver took a step closer to her, leaning to occupy the space beside her left ear. "Not a particularly good morning to interrupt, I take it?" he murmured. "Can't say I didn't expect this to happen."

Rona glanced up at him, trying not to pay attention to Hannah and Edie's gleefully knowing smiles at the corner of her eye. "Why'd you let them drag you up here?"

"Caught me on my way down for breakfast. I asked how you were doing, and they insisted that I see for myself."

"Sorry I disappeared yesterday. Just... a lot going on." She had spent almost the entirely of the previous day in her dorm, avoiding Roger, cluing Hannah in, and trying to stop Edie from guilting herself for accidentally spilling the beans. She tried to think of a less depressing topic and recalled a question on her mind earlier. "You really couldn't figure out the password?"

"It made absolutely no sense," he said with a distinct tone of annoyance. "'How does one find a lost hippogriff?'"

The answer popped into her mind instantly. "By it's tail, of course."

His jaw dropped. "How'd you know that so quick? That's what Edie said, too."

"'Cause... its the right answer?" she said, raising a brow. Second-years could figure out the password. It wasn't _that_ tricky.

"But it makes no sense," he insisted. He was halfway into his speech pose normally reserved for Quidditch. "If you can find the tail of a hippogriff, you've obviously already found the hippogriff."

She cracked a smile at his attempt to justify himself. "It's a matter of semantics."

"Well, I think semantics is bollocks."

He was getting so defensive that she barely suppressed a laugh. "Semantics opens the door. But if it makes you feel better..."

"It _does._"

"All right then." She grinned at him unrelentingly, to which he responded with a narrow-eyed glower.

They fell into silence as Rona tried to figure out what everyone was planning on the other side of the room. Oliver lifted her spirits somewhat, especially seeing him unconcerned about what her friends had in store for him.

He nudged her. "So why can't you find a hippogriff by its head?"

She couldn't hold in the laugh this time. "Are you still on that? And you say_ I'm_ the one who needs to get the last word."

His eyes were alight with a mischievous mirth. "I never said that I didn't do it, too."

"You're doing it right now."

"And so are you."

She crossed her arms. "This is going nowhere."

"Then stop," he smirked.

Her eyes narrowed. "No. You stop."

He shrugged. "Why?"

'Because." By then, Rona forgot what they were talking about anymore.

He learned in close and drawled, "Stub-born."

She pushed him away by enclosing his face with her palm.

"And mature," he laughed. He ruffled her hair and she stuck out her tongue.

Rona heard Penny clear her throat loudly and she turned to see everyone staring at them with either an expression of amusement, perplexity, or both.

Hannah lifted a hand to the side of her mouth in a faux whisper. "Merlin, their foreplay is so_ cute_."

Heat flooded Rona's face, and she quickly blew her hair back into place.

Oliver took the initiative and stepped forward. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for the mess I caused," he said, holding up his hands. "This was never about taking secrets. I've a bit of a vendetta against your captain is all, and I've already put that aside."

Jason swaggered around the couch with his hands behind his back like an inspector on an investigation and a lone toothpick in his mouth acting as his pseudo-pipe. "A likely story. Then why would you go after Rona if your problem's with Roger? She happens to be our strategist. _How convenient._"

Oliver seemed somewhat disinclined to respond to the strange sixth year peering into his face. Rona let out an exasperated grunt and snatched the toothpick out of Jason's mouth and snapped it between her fingers. Jason let out a strangled cry as he clawed for the pieces.

"He figured it out a long time ago," she said, thrusting the splintered wood into his face. "He was going to get revenge through me 'cause he thought I was Roger's girl."

Duncan punched Grant in the side. "Oi, see! Even _Wood_ thought she was dating Roger."

"It doesn't matter, because you're wrong anyway," Rona gritted.

He promptly snapped his mouth shut.

Jason shook a finger in the air as he paced about, broken toothpick dangling from his lips. "If I know Rona — and I like to pretend that I do — she wouldn't be okay with being just used like that. I call shenanigans. What've you bribed her with?" He squinted at Oliver with one eye. "Let her feel up your muscles? Shirtless photos?_ Locker peepshow?_"

"_Oi,_" snarled Rona. She advanced toward Jason with claws out.

"Okay, okay, Jason you've had your fun," said Penny, clapping her hands for attention. "Let's not get you killed just yet."

Jason raised a finger to protest, but Jeremy reached over the sofa and yanked him by the collar, causing him to choke and gracelessly flail his arms. After he released him, Jason staggered backwards and doubled over. "I think I inhaled a splinter," he gasped.

Penny completely disregarded him in favor of sighing heavily at Rona. "I'll be honest. I was going to bring it up with you later, but I might as well do it now. Even I think it's all a bit shifty still."

"What?" Rona paled. "Why?" Penny's opinion was more important than anyone else's and she certainly did not expect her to be on the opposing side.

"I don't understand." Oliver frowned. "You helped me out before."

"I was less concerned before Rona actually fancied you. And before she got kicked out of the team. How do I know you didn't plan for that to happen? If you really fancied her, you could've just waited until after our match. What's a month?"

"No, I didn't plan anything!" he said, furrowing his brows. "I — it just happened."

"It's my fault," said Rona. It was surreal defending him to Penny. "He never pushed for it. I told you."

"Maybe it's because I haven't been here for two weeks, and I haven't seen everything," said Penny. "I know he can be a nice bloke, but he was still _using_ you, and you forgave and forgot so hastily. If _you're_ not worried,_ I_ am."

Rona swallowed hard as the fretful thoughts that she kept down bubbled to the surface. She was worried, but she couldn't _say_ that. She had so stubbornly defended her choice that she couldn't admit the occasional second thought leaked into her brain. She saw Edie and Jeremy exchange worried glances and hoped they weren't having the same doubt.

_Don't be daft,_ she scolded herself. _You could see his sincerity when he apologized. And you know how he is with you. He can't just fake those feelings so easily._

But she was ever aware of how easily Penny could be correct. Oliver's transformation had been undeniably swift, and his quick discovery of her crush did not help matters. The opportunity had been his for the taking. She often wondered if the night she ended up his dorm was simply the perfect setup to win her over, and if that was the intention, it had worked.

"Rona?"

She felt Oliver's hand on her shoulder and glanced up to see an unexpectedly concerned expression affixed on his face. She was suddenly realized how apprehensive she looked after Penny's warning.

"No, you don't understand," Rona said hastily, trying to hide the nature of her thoughts. "He — " She scrambled to find something to vindicate Oliver and settle her capriciousness once and for all.

"I know you all are worried that he's trying to sabotage us, but have you all forgotten what I used to do?" she said, latching onto a runaway train of thought. "You know, spy on other teams? He's taking the same risk I am. I can find out just as much from his team as he can from ours. As for getting me kicked off the team — that's not even his fault. Roger was being bleedin' _unreasonable_."

Her eyes flew wildly around the room, still tracing doubt on her friends' faces. "And — and if you think that he never should've come snooping in the first place, this whole 'finding out who the Strategist is' mess only started because he wanted revenge on something Roger — " She faltered. " — something Roger and I did."

Oliver's hand slipped from her shoulder.

"Maybe some of you don't know or forgot," she continued, trying to ignore how stuffy it suddenly felt, "but I told Roger last year to take his reserve chaser out on a date, and the information he coerced out of her was how I made our Stupifying Sideswipe play. Forget about Oliver using me, I already helped toy with _another girl's_ heart — I think he has every right to be angry. Yeah, he could've chosen a nobler route than revenge, but bloody hell, it's not like we don't deserve it. So stop making him a scapegoat for what happened, because that's what it feels like you all are doing. I started this mess. Not him."

Gazes lowered across the room in the ensuing silence. Penny nodded once, and Edie gave her a thumbs up.

"One moment please," Jason said, raising a finger. He bounded over the sofa to initiate another round of huddled whispering.

As the spotlight stopped shining on Rona, the prickly tingles associated with Oliver's presence resurfaced. She finally found the courage to look him in the eye and found with great relief, that the expression he gave was free of anger.

"I'm sorry," she said, tracing a line on the carpet with her foot. "I should've told you earlier."

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. "It's okay," he said.

Rona thought he had more to say, but there was nothing more except a sigh. She sensed something off, but she did not have time to consider it before Jason strode up to them, a hand outstretched to Oliver.

"On behalf of the team, I am reluctantly pleased to say we will tolerate your presence. Don't get too comfortable."

Oliver stared at him a bit, no doubt still unused to Jason, but shook his hand. He glanced back at Rona who shrugged in return. She was just happy her team finally somewhat accepted him.

Edie leaned over the back of the couch and whispered to Rona, "Should Jason always be speaking 'on behalf of the team' like that?"

She shook her head. "He's getting into captainship a tad early, I suppose." Seeing Edie's bewildered reaction, she added, "You realize that he'll be the most qualified after Jeremy and Roger leave, right?"

Edie slunk back onto the sofa as if she had lost the will to hold herself up. "...may Rowena help us all."

With the tentative peace treaty in place, everyone finally began going their separate ways. Rona was about to apprehend Penny to ask for her real opinion, knowing that she might not explain some things in front of everyone, but she felt Oliver's hand slip into hers.

"I think I should go now," he murmured.

"I don't blame you. Morning's been too eventful already." Rona ambled backwards, pushing the door open, and leading him out. She noticed a couple curious stares at them and their joined hands and she flushed. Adjusting to the public eye was going to take some time.

Oliver didn't quite meet her gaze. She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

He opened his mouth a few times to speak before finally saying, "It's nothing."

As if Rona needed any more evidence that Oliver was not okay, he threw out the line that only ever meant 'It's everything'. "Really?" she said with an unsure wince.

Oliver's smile was lilted strangely. "Really. Er, I'll see you later?" He took back his hand and gave a short wave.

It was the first time that week he had given her such a terse goodbye with no attempts to keep her longer. Rona refrained from pressing further, hoping he just needed some time to himself. "Yeah, okay. ...bye."

She leaned against the door and watched him descend the staircase without a glance back, and sighed as this new set of worries replaced her old ones. She hoped her confession of guilt wasn't responsible for his sudden shift in behavior, though she knew there could be no other reason. The great weight on her shoulders came crashing down again.

Only the fourth years were still milling about the common room when Rona turned around and went up the steps to her dorm. The chatter of her friends magnified as she reached the open door.

" — broke up? Why? What happened?"

"Nothing _happened._ Just... it was fun for the moment, you know? And the moment's passed."

Rona's only respite from all the fuss over herself had been Hannah and Jeremy's sudden split the day before. It seemed amicable enough, but both refused to give details. It was peculiar to see Jeremy ruffled up or Hannah _not_ want to talk about something. They both insisted, however, that nothing was amiss.

"You two did look nice together when Jeremy was coherent," said Edie, swinging her legs on the side of her bed.

"Bah, don't pretend you aren't happy I'm not 'corrupting' him anymore," Hannah said with a harrumph. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Rona. "And how's our little vixen doing?"

Rona deflected Hannah's deflection with a question to Penny, who was unpacking. "So what do you think of him now?"

"Oliver? I've always thought he was a good bloke, Rona," Penny said absently as she inspected a skirt. "But just remember that Quidditch means everything to him." She tapped her wand thoughtfully on her chin. "It was really only the note that bothered me."

Rona blinked. "What?"

"The note. You said you found a note, right? Had a mess of names, yours was circled, and had 'revenge' or something?"

"Well... yeah, but we already figured out that he wanted revenge from Roger." After her initial interpretation of the paper, Rona had hardly given it a second thought. It was currently lost somewhere in the _Imaginary Numbers: Fact or Fantasy?_ chapter of her Arithmancy book.

"I had thought, because he knew you were the team's strategist long ago, that he really did intend to take revenge against you, not Roger. You spied on his practices, after all." Penny resumed folding the rest of her clothes with a flick of her wand. "But between that and thinking this all was his master plan, I figured I was stretching it a bit far."

Implausible or not, the great weight on Rona's shoulder pushed her a little deeper into the earth. It might have been the stress of that morning creating her sudden spike in pessimism, but Penny's theory seemed just as sound as hers.

What if Oliver was acting strange because he was afraid being exposed? No, Rona couldn't let herself become one of those high-strung bints suspecting their blokes of everything... or had that already happened? She had just defended him! How could she be even thinking this? Or did Penny just finally put some sense into the situation?

Edie and Jeremy had been her cheering section for the better part of the holidays, without any real dissenting opinions. She only then fully realized just how short a time she had known Oliver.

"Tell Penny those stories of you and Oliver — that'll convince her for good," piped in Hannah. "'sides, I didn't get to hear all of them either with you keeping mum."

Rona wished she could convince _herself _that easily. She obliged if only in another attempt to remind herself of all the good memories.

Penny smiled, though it seemed out of obligation. "It _is_ quite refreshing to see you interacting with something other than a book."

"So you think he's all right, then?" Rona tried not to sound too pleading.

She was already ignoring her in favor of her Charms textbook. "How many times do I have to say it? Good bloke, just telling you to watch yourself."

Rona tried her best to study, especially with classes beginning again, and told herself that all would be resolved after a good night's sleep. But in the back of her mind, the memories of Oliver continued to crumble one by one under the burden of doubt, and she had to wonder if Penny warning worked a little too well.


	14. No One Plays to Lose

The death knell for Rona's mood fell on Monday as classes began again. Professor Sprout scheduled a week of Herbology fieldwork, which meant a trek to the Forbidden Forest every morning knee deep in freezing snow and mud. In Ancient Runes, she needed to decode an entirely new set of glyphs and she was struggling to differentiate between the squiggly line with a circle rune and the circle with a squiggly line rune.

Penny predicted incorrectly: Roger didn't seem even slightly interested in groveling for help. As the team ran through their drills above her, Rona was in her hidden corner, grumbling at the irony of spying on her own team. She had admit the practice went surprisingly well, though Roger seemed to have a perpetually angry expression. He chose smart plays for the upcoming game and directed the team around the pitch with skill.

Regardless, the backup plan was put into motion. After practice, the team shuffled into Flitwick's classroom and draped themselves over the furniture, exhausted. Duncan and Grant were already half-asleep. Jason raised a finger to speak but he couldn't let anything out except for a croak before his head lolled back.

Randolph sprawled himself against the desk. "Three weeks... and... already... out of shape," he panted.

Rona pulled herself up to sit on a table, wondering how she was going to talk strategy to a team lacking any sort of consciousness. She also wondered _what_ she was going to say. Roger had caught most of the team's mistakes, leaving her only nitpicks at Cho's speed and Randolph's Five-Headed Hydra maneuver.

She looked around at all the slumped figures and sighed. "You lot are doing fine," she said, setting down her notes. "Bugger knows what he's doing."

"That's good, right?" said Duncan, lifting his head weakly.

"Yeah, I suppose," she muttered. It was for the team, but less so for her. It only meant she wasn't needed anymore and being dumped to the side of the pitch after years of help did not give the fuzziest of feelings. Roger was doing a damned good job of ruining Quidditch for her.

Rona ended their meeting early, and they shambled out as enthusiastically as they entered. Waiting for her back in her dorm was fifty pages of Goblin revolution excitement to read. If that wasn't enough, the whole dorm was in low spirits. Hannah continued to be tight-lipped on the subject of her and Jeremy, Edie still guilted herself over not noticing Roger's eavesdropping, and Penny was annoyed that all these debacles weren't getting fixed soon enough.

She met Oliver briefly before dinner to walk to the Great Hall together. She was still getting used to the attention of interested passer-bys who peered into their faces interestedly as if they were surprised they were still together. Frankly, she was quite surprised, too, considering everything up to that point.

"How's the team?" asked Oliver, swinging around her hand with a finger hooked around hers. "I see Roger's been pushing them to their limits."

She wasn't sure if it was the way he said it or if she was paying more attention to everything he said,, but a sudden bout of dread prickled the hairs on her neck. "How did you know that?" she asked.

Oliver glanced down at her and she couldn't tell if he hesitated or not. "I saw them coming back from the pitch," he said.

"Oh." She searched the recesses of her mind, trying to recall his schedule and if it was possible. She could swear that he had a Dark Arts class during that time. She cleared her throat, remembering that he was right next to her. "They're mostly alive, I suppose. You're starting practices soon, right?"

"Five days a week if I can manage it," he said with a tilt of his head. "But I think they can take it. ...Did your meeting go well?"

It wasn't just in her head; Rona kept hearing a cautious pause before his sentences. "Yeah," she said. "I mean, I guess Roger's... doing fine, so I haven't been really needed... except for minor hitches with speed and turning..." She had never talked so directly about her team before and wasn't sure what was safe territory. "We're managing," she finished.

He stared at her for a moment with a slight frown, as if analyzing every facet of face, before turning away and nodding slightly.

Rona considered that perhaps his strange demeanor was because he was upset with her. She approached the topic cautiously. "Are you... still mad about Natalie?"

He opened his mouth to speak and she thought she could see him mouth 'yes', but the words that eventually came out were, "It was... surprising. That's all." He didn't meet her eyes.

Her worries simmered for another day. The next time she met him, his shift in attitude was even more unmistakable.

Rona sat on the hallway floor with her book balanced on her tucked knees next to Oliver. Their conversation had been unusually stilted, but she kept trying to fill in the awkward silences. "Do you think that I can still meet with the scouters after matches even though I'm not that involved with the team anymore?" she asked, turning to him.

"Does it matter what I think?" he muttered as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

She sighed at his continual standoffishness. "Well, _yes,_" she said, hoping he could hear the irritation and concern in her voice.

He sniffed, still not looking up. "I wasn't aware."

No matter how much she asked what was wrong, he wouldn't give a straight reply. All she knew was that he wasn't budging with an answer, and there were only so many things he would keep quiet about.

The meetings with the team eventually became slightly more productive as Rona found more to fix. Roger's patience began to slip and his volume increased tenfold as a result of becoming insanely perfectionist by the end of the week. When Jeremy and Randolph made goals, he yelled at Grant for not blocking them. When he _did_ block them, he yelled at Jeremy and Randolph for not making goals.

Sometimes, she caught Roger looking right at her during practices, and she was sure he could see her — she wouldn't have been surprised with the flimsy Disillusionment charm Penny placed. But she didn't know why he wouldn't mention anything.

On the opposite end of decibels, her dorm managed to become even quieter. It was no big deal for Penny, Edie, and Rona, but it was driving Hannah crazy.

Hannah lay on her bed, twirling a finger in the air as she tried to stir up a conversation topic about Rona again, though it was obvious that she was grasping at straws. "_Revenge. Seduction. Drunken nights_," she said dramatically. "Friends becoming enemies. Enemies becoming friends!"

"So my life is the plot of my Gram's soaps," said Rona in a monotone as she skimmed a paragraph on the thrilling life and times of magical deciduous trees.

The room fell into another silence punctuated only by the occasional flip of a page.

It was only when Rona reached page thirty-three that she noticed that it had been nearly three whole days she had last spoken to Oliver. They had exchanged glances across the Great Hall at times, but she hadn't had time to meet up with him properly lately. He had not sought her out either. She meant to look for him herself, but as work piled up, she kept putting it off until she finally forgot.

Wary or not, she missed him. He knew how to calm her down and make her laugh and forget that she was paranoid in the first place. Unfortunately, the next day only had more work for her and the tiring cycle started all over again.

There was a pocket of time after lunch, but she could not find Oliver in the Great Hall. She wandered out to the pitch, half in attempt to find him, half simply to enjoy the place without needing to hide. Their practice wasn't for another hour and Slytherin already had theirs in the morning. She reached down to run her hand across the grass that was enchanted to stay clean-cut, dew-scented, and delightfully springy — somewhat deceptive for something that was the cause of innumerable concussions from broom falls.

As she circled the perimeter, she heard the faint sound of running water, and upon closer inspection, verified that it indeed from the lockers. She knew no one else except Oliver would be there without a game coming up.

She stepped down into the hallway beneath the stand and headed toward the cloud of steam pouring from the entrance. As she tread deeper into the room, she could barely make out the back of his head at the very last shower and was about to call out to him, but thought better than to interrupt his shower.

The implications hit her full force. A _shower. _Naked. Behind a very short dividing wall.

Her cheeks reddened and she tried to make a quick escape, hoping he wouldn't notice her, but the floor was slippery. She grabbed on to the handle of the closest locker for balance, causing a loud clash of metal.

"_Oi_ — " Oliver whipped around, spraying water around him. He took one look at Rona and raised an eyebrow, hand reaching for his towel. "How long have you been there — "

"I was — " Rona began, scrambling for any explanation that sounded less creepy than 'watching you', which was essentially any excuse at all. "I-I thought you were_ Jeremy!_"

The eyebrow went higher. "You see Jeremy _naked?_"

Her grip slipped and she nearly fell again at his words. "No! _No! _That came out wrong," she stuttered, trying to find a way to explain her blasé attitude with locker rooms. "I mean, I — I thought this was my _team's_ lockers — "

It was physically impossible for Oliver to look any more surprised. "You see your _team_ _naked?_"

"Yes — I mean, no, I mean, I — " Panic gripped her throat. "Merlin, _it's not what it looks like!"_ She hurriedly tried to stand up, but her left foot flew through the air and she fell flat on her back with a resounding thump.

The squeak of Oliver's wet footsteps across the cement floor neared. Rona peeked up wearily, pushing herself up into a sitting position despite her smarting palms, her face still flushed with embarrassment. He had a towel wrapped around his middle now and his earlier bemusement was gone as he cast his eyes indifferently toward her before opening his locker.

Her heart sank at the cold shoulder, and she scrambled to find reasons for it. In the ensuing silence, she didn't know what else to do but to continue her earlier fumbled explanation. "I... I meant to say that I'm used to talking to my team in the lockers and... I guess I'm too used to it now." Her voice trailed off at the end as she looked for any sign of a response.

He threw his clothes over his shoulder and shut the door with a startling slam, giving her another brief glance before heading behind the next row of lockers to change.

Every muscle of her body belied the calm she tried to keep. "You've been avoiding me," Rona said, biting the inside of her lip.

There was no response until he reappeared, dressed and drying his hair with his towel. "So you noticed."

"I thought nothing was wrong," she said quietly, though it was obvious the truth was otherwise.

"Maybe I lied."

She frowned at his terse replies. "You should've just told me if you really weren't okay."

Oliver threw his towel on the bench and opened his locker again, though it didn't seem like he was looking for anything. "Maybe I wished you'd figure it out on your own," he said. Frustration peppered his words.

"I've been asking you," she said, baffled. She couldn't be blamed for not making an effort. "I don't know what else you want me to figure out. What I did to Natalie was terrible, but I don't know how else I can make it up — " She stopped as he started to shake his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You think this is still about Natalie?" His grip tightened against the metal sides until they were white at the knuckles.

Rona frowned. She didn't know what else it could be about.

Oliver turned his head and she could barely make out his grimace. "Do you trust me?" he asked, the strained quality of his voice disclosing exactly how much he must have considered the question before.

Her lips parted in confusion, puzzled over what prompted his question, one that she remembered Roger asking once, one that she had been asking herself that week. "Yes," she said, though she knew how hollow it sounded.

His head dropped between his shoulders. "Then why does it sound like you don't?"

"I do!" she exclaimed, but her emphasis sounded silly now. She sighed. "Mostly. Mostly, I do."

He spun around, anger and pain flashing in his eyes. "_Mostly?_"

Rona stiffened. She didn't think it would be such a big deal to him. She had forgotten how explosive Oliver was when he was incensed; memories of the near-fight with Roger in the Great Hall flickered through her mind. "I think it's expected," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "We didn't exactly meet in the best of situations."

"Is it still that?" He struck the locker with the side of his clenched hand.

Her defenses shot up as fear and disbelief took over her. She wasn't prepared for this. "I don't understand why you're so angry. It's only been a few weeks — "

"Only? _Only?_" he scoffed. "What do I have to do to prove myself, eh? Haven't I done enough?"

Rona suddenly felt claustrophobic, her back pressed against the wall behind her, steam stifling her throat. "You've been acting _weird!_ Asking suspicious questions. What was I supposed to think?"

"My _suspicious questions?_" he repeated, thrusting his hands out in indignation. "Like what, _asking about how your team's doing?_ I'm not looking for bleedin' _blueprints_, I want to know how your day went! Quidditch is what we do; we're not just going to ignore it forever!"

"I'm not asking for forever! I just thought that maybe... maybe we would've been better off waiting until after our match and then — "

"You really think I would put a damn _match _over you?" He grit his teeth. "So that's what you think." He paced down the aisle, each intake of breath sharper than the last. He stopped at the end of the aisle and Rona thought to approach him and try to calm him down when he hit the lockers again, shaking her to the bone.

"I don't have a problem trusting _you!_" he yelled.

_He's doesn't know what he's saying. His temper's fueling him. Or else he would see how I'm trying._ Rona rose to her feet, however unsteady her legs were at the moment. "It's not the same — "

"Why? Because you can't be as shady as I can?" Oliver walked up to her and blood pounded against her throat as he trapped her with an arm on either side of her. She looked down, not wanting to see his hurt, but he followed her gaze. "I recall someone taking advantage of my team members — "

Her eyes flew up and she placed a hand on his arm, desperate to break him out of his fit. "You said that didn't matter anymore," she breathed, now grasping at straws to defend herself.

He twisted his arm away. "Maybe it does!" He swallowed hard. "If you still can't forget about the stupid things I've done, that I already apologized for, then why should I forget about everything _you've_ done?"

"It's not that easy for me. I can't just trust people — "

"And you don't think it's hard for _me?_" he spat. "You don't think that I've ever thought that maybe_ you_ were using _me?_ But that I told myself, 'Why the hell would I be so_ stupid_ to ruin my chances with a brilliant girl based on some bloody fear _with no basis?_'"

Her mind was telling her that he was blowing everything out of proportion, that she was in the wrong but not as deep as he was making it seem, yet she could not deny the pangs of guilt in her heart and the tears threatening to burst out. "I thought you'd understand!"

He stared at her, panting as the ire faded, and stood stock still as the silence dragged on. Finally, with slight shake of his head, he sighed, "I do. And I'm _disappointed._"

Dropping his arms, Oliver tore his eyes away from her. He whipped his towel off the bench and, without another glance, left the room.

After the echo of his steps faded away, Rona was left alone with only the sound of dripping water to accompany her shaky breaths. As the cold seeped into her clothes, she slunk against the wall, feeling the tremor of sobs coming up her throat, and fought every urge to cry.

_He should've told me. He should've understood._

Rona tried to recall every conversation they had, searching for evidence that would make her sound valid. She wanted to tell him what she had risked for him and how her exile had been hell, but every justification seemed meaningless. Guilt drained her of color as she realized how much he must have cared to be that angry. About her. About them.

But his resigned expression when he left told her that it no longer mattered.

Rona alternated between bouts of crying and not-crying, his words repeating in her head, until it was nearly time for practice. Her legs were numb when she stumbled to her feet and walked over to the mirrors to check her eyes, rimmed with red. She splashed her face with water and quickly left the room, not wanting to risk being caught by her team.

She sat on the floor of the spectator stand, her hiding spot, still trying to clear her mind until she finally saw the familiar figures of her team take to the sky. But she couldn't focus no matter how hard she tried and had little recollection of the practice after it was over.

She was pacing around Flitwick's classroom when Jeremy entered, the first of the team to arrive.

He took one look at her and frowned. "Are you okay?"

Rona took a deep breath, ready to tell Jeremy everything like she always did, but the words couldn't form. Admitting her mistake was more than she could handle. She could already see the creases of worry forming on his forehead when she plastered a smile on her face and said, "It's nothing."

He gave her a pointed look, but left her alone.

No one else mentioned anything until Penny pulled her aside after dinner, scrutinizing her up and down. "What's wrong?" she asked flatly.

Rona's gaze flicked to the Gryffindor table momentarily. She cleared her throat. "Binns has been a right arse with assigning essays is all."

Penny furrowed her brows as she glanced in the same direction. "What happened?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Please don't tell me he really is using you."

Rona wanted to laugh. It would've been nice to laugh, however bitterly, after her mess of a day. "No, it's nothing like that. He really did fancy me," she said with a small wavering smile. "More than I expected."

Penny's stance softened, realization dawning on her. "Rona..."

"I screwed up," she uttered, quiet and drawn. "We're over."


	15. Everyone but the Girl

Oliver stared at his reflection on the clock's glass encasing. He couldn't remember the last time he looked so haggard. Even if most of his fellow students looked as perky as Snape's hair — as it always was after the holidays — he thought he looked worse. Something about mornings didn't agree with him.

The clock he held was none other than the one Rona had given him for Christmas. It was a shiny red, his favorite color. Enchanted for durability, she had said. If he gripped the object any tighter, he was certain that it would shatter.

He wondered how it would fare against the wall.

Oliver swung his arm back but he hesitated at the apex of his throw and cursed under his breath. It was so easy to demolish his last clock, of which bits and pieces were still stuck in the odd corners of the room. Of course, this one was special and he thought with great morbidity that it would make the satisfaction of seeing it smash against stone that much greater — if he could let it go, that was.

He tried again but met the same unconscious resistance. And again. And again. Finally, wanting to get it over with, he pulled his arm back as far as he could. But just as he was about to fling it forward, a hand grasped his wrist.

Oliver whipped around to find a narrow-eyed Percy Weasley.

"Don't. You. _Dare._"

"You don't understand," Oliver scowled. "How can a girl like her be so dense? I've done everything I could and it all doesn't matter to her." He kicked the bedpost. "I'm one of the bleedin' nice blokes, dammit! Act like a dolt_ once_ and it's all dungbombs."

Percy's expression did not change the slightest during his rant. "I didn't ask for your life story," he muttered, releasing him. "I just don't want damned springs flying across the room again. It's hell to clean up." He spun back around toward his desk.

There was apparently little merit to living with someone for seven years.

"Thank you for being so concerned, mate," Oliver said dryly. "If I ever start bleeding profusely all over the floor, I apologize in advance for leaving the stains."

"Fine, fine." Percy took a seat and waved a hand in the air in the same disinterested manner, the other hand busy rifling through papers. "_Expound_ to me the complicated life of Mr. Wood."

"Forget it." Oliver fell back onto his bed, tossing his clock beside him where it bounced and settled in between the folds of his sheets. The seconds ticked past, annoyingly audible with the clock's proximity. He could bear less than a minute of the torture before needing to fill up the silence. "She's driving me nuts," he muttered.

Percy looked up once before his quill resumed moving. "Rona? The quiet ones are always trouble."

He snorted. "She is not quiet. She's... bloody _frustrating!_ I _want_ to be angry at her — no, I _am_ angry at her — " He suddenly recalled the look in her eyes when he last saw her. She was trying not to cry. That had been his other nagging thought. He pulled at his sheets, trying to shake the image from his mind. "_I_ shouldn't be the one feeling guilty!"

"Tch, you had a row with her?" said Percy, shaking his head. He carefully laid his parchment in the stack and pushed his chair back. "Get used to it. The blokes never win rows, even when they're right."

Oliver suspected as much. "Is that what happens with you and Penny?" he asked with sudden interest. He always forgot that Percy had a girlfriend because he hardly ever saw them together except during their prefect duties. Plus, the idea of Percy Weasley wooing a girl was laughable at best. To this day, Oliver never figured out how he was the first of their year to be in a relationship.

"Of course not." Percy smiled smugly. "We _never_ row."

"Bollocks." Of course, he should have expected such a reply from the person who liked to prattle on and on about Penny's perfection, whom in truth was sort of a pushy know-it-all. He turned over so that he was face first in his pillow and peeked up with no small grimace. "Should I just wait until she comes to me? Will she? What if I scared her off?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "_Oh for Godric's sake_ — you still fancy her, right?"

Far more than he should at that point. "Yeah."

"And she's worth the trouble?"

He started at the clock. The fact that he had such a dilemma was quite indicative of the answer. "Most likely."

The exasperated redhead spread out his hands. "Then go bloody_ fix _it. Better than poisoning the atmosphere with your doom and gloom."

Oliver flattened his gaze. "You're trying to get rid of me."

"Of course." He pulled his chair back toward his desk and picked up his quill, engrossed in work once again.

After continuing his tantrum for another few minutes, Oliver grabbed his broom to go on his morning flight, hoping the pitch would be less apathetic than Percy. On his way down, he stuck his head through the fifth year dorm and found Fred and George huddled over a box in the middle of the room. He rapped on the side of the door.

The twins jumped, both heads popping up, and immediately shot up in a synchronized salute. "Captain Wood!" they chorused.

Fred hooked his foot around the box and pushed it under his bed. "We swear, the pigeon was like that when we found it."

Oliver knew better than to ask. "Practice on Tuesday and Thursday. Four o' clock," he said, pointing a finger at both of them. "Come late and you're doing laps. Tell the the others when you see them."

They saluted again, their elbows knocking into each other. "Yessir."

He had not fully turned around before the twins began conversing.

"Since when did we become his messengers?"

"That's what happens when Wood gets a girl."

Oliver whipped back to face them, hand slamming into the door frame. "_Oi,_ are you two _volunteering_ to come early and organize the broom closets?"

George rubbed his chin, quite unaffected by his threat. "He's doing that moody thing like he did a few weeks ago," he said, nodding to Fred. "Must be bird trouble. How'd you mess up this time, Wood?"

Oliver stared at them, his teeth slowly grating against each other. Quidditch teams were far too interested in the love lives of their superiors. "Practice on Wednesday, too," he said gruffly, and left down the staircase before any opposition could arise. He heard some racket of protesting as he stomped down the stairs but didn't bother to make out the words.

Taking to the skies gave him a much needed calm. After pushing off from the pitch, he circled around to the borders of the lake and ran through a regimen of swoops and turns, trying to extend his flight for as long as possible before he needed to rush to class. It was an amazingly effective distraction up until he stepped inside the locker rooms and the memory of the previous day came rushing back.

His next half hour involved hanging his head underneath a torrent of hot water while muttering expletives.

It was impossible to get a gauge on Rona, at least without making it obvious he was watching. She always had her nose buried in a book. He hadn't heard any gossip about their row nor did her friends exhibit any change in behavior. Knowing the level of nosiness of that bunch, they would descend on him like Filch on a house party if they knew about it, but they hadn't. With the exception of Percy, he had kept the matter under wraps so he could only guess that she did as well. In truth, he had already forgiven her but was too stubborn to deflate his anger. He was entitled to an apology after all, but he was reconsidering whether it was worth all the trouble.

When practice came around the next day, he would've liked to believe he blocked as many shots as usual, except the hard facts told him that he was a dozen short of average. The miniature captain in his head beat himself up enough over it, but as an added injury, the others on his team had to notice as well.

During a short break, the team bobbed around the sky making lazy swirls. Alicia leaned forward on her broom, her inquisitive smirk butting into his vision. "Girl problems, cap'n? Fred and George were talking about it."

He immediately dropped his eyes to his clipboard and pretended to be preoccupied by flipping through his pages of notes. "I'm _not_ having girl problems."

Her finger pushed his clipboard down in an attempt for attention. "The only reason you blocked that last Quaffle was because you forgot to move your huge head out of the way and it hit you square on the forehead. I've never seen you so distracted."

Angelina flew to the space beside Alicia. "It's that girl he was stalking, right?"

"I was _not_ stalking her," he muttered.

The girls dissolved into a fit of giggles, though he didn't know what was so funny. "No need to be so negative," said Alicia. "_Not_ this, _not_ that."

Oliver flipped the next page a tad too violently, half-ripping it from the clipboard. Alicia pointed out the exact mannerism he had pegged on Rona once, and now he was emulating her.

He conceded; Rona was inescapable.

Which was why he wasn't surprised when he ran into Jeremy on the pitch on Thursday. Oliver arrived early for practice as usual, and Jeremy stayed late from his. He also caught Roger leaving the pitch and barely restrained himself from bruising the sneer off his face, deciding that he really didn't need any additional trouble at the moment. But as soon as the other captain left, he regretted it; he really did need to punch something at the moment.

Oliver and Jeremy acknowledged with a nod, but otherwise ignored each other. It only took a few minutes, however, for an entirely too-stubborn girl to preoccupy his thoughts again. When he couldn't take it anymore, he apprehended Jeremy with a slight wave as the latter landed back on the grass.

It took a few tries before the question finally left his mouth. "How... is she?" he asked.

Jeremy planted his broom on the ground and leaned against it. "Distracting herself," he said with a shrug, as if he didn't know quite how to answer.

It was the sort of vague answer that told Oliver nothing new. He sighed and followed suit, pressing his forehead against his broom.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

Oliver frowned and looked up at Jeremy, confused. He assumed Rona had told _him_ at least. They seemed awfully close, especially for someone like Rona who was prickly to most, and Oliver was admittedly a tad jealous. Unfortunately, Jeremy seemed like one of those right respectable blokes who was quite difficult to hate arbitrarily.

"Just had a row," he muttered finally.

Jeremy nodded once. "Girls," he said in a long exhale. "Nothing but trouble."

Oliver couldn't have said it any better. With everyone trying to pull him out of his pit of despair, it was nice to have some company jump in and wallow with him. He put his broom down, hunching forward with his elbows against his knees. "What's with you?"

Jeremy took a seat on the bench next to him, mirroring his pose. "Recently single. We wanted different things. No one's fault." He stared off into the distance. "Can't help but feel awful though."

Now_ this_ was a bloke who knew what he was talking about. "What is it about girls that make you feel like you're in the wrong even when you're not?" muttered Oliver.

Jeremy laughed once, tired and resigned. "I have no bleedin' idea, but I really wish they'd let us in on the secret."

Oliver continued the sour swell of the conversation, desperate to purge everything from his system. "Bet they don't even know how easy it is to guilt us."

"They'd exploit it to bits if they did."

"Foxes, all of them."

"Never know what they want."

"Can't accept we're trying to be gentlemen."

"And never see how much we care."

Oliver slumped back against the wall, sighing at length. "Merlin, I _miss_ her." The constant chattering. The incessant denial of everything. The embarrassed smiles she tried to hide. Even when he was complaining full-force about her, her feminine wiles still managed to mount a successful campaign against his will.

Jeremy chuckled, folding his hands behind his head. "Rona isn't so bad. Just not the sharpest quill in the pot when it comes to people. _Analyzing_ people, yes. Relationships, not so much." He shifted his glance to him. "What'd she do this time?"

He shook his head. The reason sounded more absurd every time he said it aloud. "She thought I might be deceiving her still."

"Don't think too much of it. She worries too much about everything."

"I know, I just... wish she didn't." There was a time when he didn't mind, when it was even endearing how someone so prideful and resolute had a vulnerable side. But that was before it negatively affected him. "And you?" he asked, trying to distract himself. "Hannah, right?"

Jeremy nodded and while he answered, continued to bob absently. "She got angry 'cause I didn't tell her about you two. Everyone knew except her, you see, and we made a point to keep her in the dark — she's a bit of a loud talker. It was humiliating for her, I suppose."

The premise struck Oliver as absurd. "If she's shown that she can't be trusted to keep her mouth shut, she should expect this sort of treatment — " Jeremy shot him a funny look, and it took a second before Oliver realized how hypocritical he sounded. "No, no, my situation's different," he added hastily. "I mean, I made an obvious change in behavior the last few weeks — "

Jeremy's laugh interrupted him. "Nah, I agree. Rona probably should have thought better of you."

It still bothered him how quickly and easily Jeremy and Hannah's relationship dissolved, especially with his own on thin ice. "No offense, but it seems sort of petty of her to break up over something like that," he said.

Jeremy responded with a half-shrug, half-nod, as if he wasn't sure if he agreed or not. "It wasn't the only factor. The... novelty of our arrangement was wearing off for me. I didn't want to lead her on." He sunk his chin into the palm of his hand. "And I suppose it might seem petty to you or me, but obviously not to her. We forget that sometimes, I suppose."

Oliver couldn't believe they were sitting by the pitch, regaling pitiful stories of their love life like girls at a bar. "Look at us and all our concern. We deserve a medal for all this." He lifted an imaginary cup, one he sorely wished was filled with real firewhiskey. "For under-appreciated sensitive blokes."

Jeremy followed suit. "I'll drink to that."

_Clink._

* * *

><p>Hogwarts buzzed with the excitement of the impending Ravenclaw-Slytherin match. Ravenclaw trailed Slytherin for first by only twenty points and both teams had two matches left. It was anyone's game.<p>

Oliver did not appreciate the populace's lack of faith in the possibility of a Gryffindor comeback. They were behind by nearly two hundred points, but teams had come back to win from a worse margin. Granted, there had only ever been two such instances in the past century, but he had a tip-top team that year — even though he was exceedingly distracted, the twins kept skipping practices due to detentions, and his Seeker attracted bad luck of the dementor kind.

If nothing else, at least his ability to delude himself improved.

The morning of the match, he jogged down the stairs for an early breakfast, wanting to catch the early action and if he was lucky, talk to a few scouters. And somewhere in the depths of his mind, he knew he also wanted to 'accidentally' run into Rona. At the base of the staircase, he found a Ravenclaw, but not the one he was looking for.

"Morning, Oliver," Penny greeted in a deceptively agreeable voice.

"Percy's still upstairs," he said, throwing her the barest of glances.

"I'm not looking for Percy."

He stopped mid-step and spun on his heel to face her, the tingle of bad news creeping up his neck. "What do you want?" he asked, hoping this wasn't one of those conversations that was going to pile more guilt on him.

"I'm here to help, naturally," she said, her pose speaking all about her intents to pry.

Oliver scoffed, remembering quite well her part in causing the problem in the first place. "What happened to me being shifty?"

Penny put her hands on her hips, as if she could look any more indignant. "I warned her like any good friend should. I hardly think I was being unreasonable. It's not my fault you two handle things in the most idiotic ways imaginable."

It took too much effort to try to get rid of her. "So... what do you want?" he repeated.

"She cares about you a lot, even if she's too stupid to show it."

Oliver's attempt at indifference wavered, but he reminded himself that she had yet to make amends. "You want _me_ to make it all better then?" he said tiredly.

She gave him another pointed look. "You could at least stop ignoring her."

"I'm hardly ignoring — " he began, but her glare hardened immediately. Truthfully, he laid an invisible radius where he stayed behind and habitually turned away whenever she was about to look at him. He knew it was just prolonging his misery, but his instinct drove him to it. "Fine," he muttered.

Penny dropped out of her intimidatingly perfect posture to lean against the banister. "Is it strange that I knew this would all happen?"

Of course she had to brag about it. "No, I'm quite used to you thinking you know everything," he said.

"Tch." Her eyes narrowed, but she continued regardless, "Percy asked me back in November to find you a girl because you were spending entirely too much time polishing your broom, droning on about Quidditch."

Admittedly, there might have been a slight problem if Percy was saying he should go out more often.

"When you came looking for Rona, it was all too perfect. You're certainly her type, but I never expected something would actually happen. I thought at first that she fancied you to rebel against Roger. She does try so hard to spite him."

Oliver frowned, waiting for her to say that she was wrong and that Rona fancied him for more than that. Penny's track record for indirectly causing worry increased by another victim. "Does he really fancy her?" he asked curiously.

"What, you need another reason to get in a tiff?" She shook her head. "Roger's just possessive. Greedy bastard, really. Never appreciated her until you came by. You stubborn lot are all so _difficult_. She's been pretending that everything's fine just so that he can't see how badly she mucked up."

All those books she kept her nose in. All the fake smiles.

"In any case," she continued, "I only came by to say that I hear her practicing apology speeches whenever I open the door to our dorm — _pah_, she thinks I don't notice. So if you still fancy her — and clearly you do — you might as well get back together a little quicker."

He raised a brow. "Well... it's not like we broke up."

She immediately stood up again, staring at him in renewed interest. "...what?"

"We had a_ row_." He was angry, which meant he yelled at unhealthy volumes and gave stubbornly long cold shoulders. But he never _broke up_ with her. "Does she think that we — ? ...oh _sod it all!_"

Penny placed a hand on her forehead, dragging it down in complete disbelief, as she ground her teeth together. "Rona, you stupid, _stupid_ girl. This is why I intervene." She sighed. "She should be in booth six right about now."

He ran.


	16. Intervention Convention

It was ten minutes until the start of the match and Rona's thoughts were as far from it as possible, parked somewhere between Guilt Central and Broken Heart Boulevard.

She counted the days she had been stuck in such a state, always wondering how long it took for the emotional lows to go away. Two weeks? A month? She was so certain that once she set foot in the spectator booth, the prickling anticipation of the impending match would quash her depression.

Apparently, pretending that everything was okay in front of her friends meant holing herself in the third floor loo whenever she _did_ want to cry. In the past week, she wallowed more than anything else. A healthy dose of catharsis was one thing, but the amount of her water intake wasted on tears was ridiculous.

She was not supposed to be in such a fit over a _bloke_. She was not _that_ kind of girl.

Fine, he was special. She wished it didn't take breaking up for her to realize that. What's worse was that not two hours after their breakup, she realized she_ did_ trust him. She just hadn't known what it felt like. How to describe it. He was the only one who she was okay with showing the embarrassingly loony self who made mistakes by the dozens.

Still. He was just her former vaguely-defined boyfriend.

He was just a bloke.

It wasn't supposed to hurt like this.

Rona heard a whisper, distinct from the chatter of other nearby fans. "Do you suppose it'd be horribly insensitive of me to tell her she's blocking the view?"

Hannah and Edie were sitting on the benches behind her, occasionally whispering about her. They had yet to realize she was within earshot.

"Yes and the match hasn't started yet," Edie murmured in reply. "'sides, most people stand up to watch."

"Right. People come to _watch the match._"

"And not snog boys behind the stands."

"And not snog boys behind the stands," Hannah repeated, sounding quite pleased with herself. "Because snogging boys do not make the world go 'round."

"I'm proud of you, dear."

The day before, Hannah had jabbered on excitedly about how she had an epiphany that she and Jeremy could just be friends. She hadn't missed the wildly inappropriate make-out sessions as much as his company.

"Blokes are girls, too!" Hannah had declared as she clung to a confused Jeremy's arm.

"I think she means human," Rona had tried to explain, smirking at what a novel idea it seemed for Hannah. Truthfully, she couldn't help but be a bit jealous at how her relationship-trainwreck friend resolved her problems so quickly and simply.

Rona drummed her fingers against her thigh. The wait for the match to begin was dragging to an unbearable length. She arrived early to the pitch as a matter of habit but usually spent it in the locker room with the team, not turning into a lolly fifty meters up in gale-force winds.

One bloke avoiding her and one bloke to be avoided. Makings of a brilliant day.

She heard Hannah's hissing whisper again. "How long do you think she'll be mopey like that?"

Rona broke her silent eavesdropping to send a glare back. "I am not mopey!"

Edie pulled at Hannah's scarf. "I _told _you she could hear us." She smiled apologetically. "We're just _concerned_ and _hoping_ that today's match will cheer you up."

Rona sighed, knowing how much she had been worrying her friends as of late. "I'm fine, really. You know I would never let myself get in a fit over a bloke."

"Now, now. Feeling down after a breakup is nothing to be ashamed about."

"I am —"

"_Not fine_," Edie interjected, her lips now stern. She leaned forward, arm resting on her tucked-in knees. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I can't help but think you're making things worse. It's been a week. Any reason why you haven't spoken to him yet?"

Rona still hadn't explained to them what happened. If they had seen the expression on his face from that day, they would understand why she didn't want to confront him again. She couldn't bear to see that hurt for a second time. Pushing down on the pockets of her coat, she scrabbled for a generic excuse. "It's not a big deal... we're both better off this way._ I'm fine._"

Hannah nudged Edie. "Probably thinks that she says that enough, it'll really be true," she said, voice still a loud whisper.

Rona narrowed her eyes. "Oh go snog someone behind the stands, why don't you?"

"Oi, cheap shot!" Hannah pouted and crossed her arms. "I am making a difference in my life right now. You, on the other hand, are getting very good at denial."

Rona would have retorted, but denying that she was in denial seemed a bit too contradicting. Instead, she sulkily sunk deeper into her scarf for warmth and tried not to think about how Oliver always offered his coat .

Edie clucked her tongue, but her attention quickly switched elsewhere as her mittened hands shot up, waving frantically in the direction of the booth's entrance. "Penny!"

Penny stood at the top of the stairs looking exceedingly confused as her head darted in all directions. She continued to peer around as she stalked over them, the displeasure in her frown intensifying.

Rona raised a brow. "Looking for Percy?"

Her frown dropped another notch. "Why does everyone think I'm looking for Percy?" Penny leaned over the edge, squinting at the nearby booths. "I'm just... surprised at the lack of attendance today. No one appreciates Quidditch anymore."

"Uh huh." Rona let her be only because when Penny had something to say, she would say it eventually.

Suddenly the stands erupted in thunderous applause, finally signaling the start of the match. Rona turned back to the pitch, half-heartedly contributing to the noise. The players appeared from the shadows, walking out on the grass from opposite ends — Ravenclaw on one side and Slytherin on the other.

Beside her, a constant muttering courtesy of Penny was audible above the din. "_I will not meddle, I will not meddle, I will not meddle..._"

Rona stared at her. Penny stopped her mantra to glare at her from the side. "I will not meddle!" she affirmed sharply, her nostrils flaring in a huff. "You..._ difficult..._ people! I am _this_ close to _Silencio_-ing myself and I am not spoiling this. No, I am not..." Her rant degenerated into another string of mutterings.

Part of Rona wanted to press Penny for elaboration but her mind was elsewhere, namely Oliver. She seriously considered consulting Madam Pomfrey after the match for some potion to get him out of there. There had to be an easier way for people to deal with post-break up tumults and she doubted the power of gorging on a tub of a triple chocolate butterbeer ice cream.

The train of thought continued as the beginning ritual of the Quidditch match sped by — the captains' handshake, the release of the Snitch, the opening whistle and the flight of the brooms. She tried to pay attention and pump herself up to middling results.

"And another goal for Slytherin!" boomed Lee's commentary. "Already forty up, and we haven't even got to the meat of the game!"

The sprinkles to her bowl of joy.

Amongst the blur of blue and green cloaks, Rona was finally able to concentrate enough to zero in on the problem: Roger. Just like she feared, his mind wasn't on the game, brows ever creased as he tailed the Quaffle. The term 'blinded by fury' was no joke; there were far more stumbles and missed shots than usual. Her plays didn't work with a lacking captain.

Rona's grip on the railing tightened, damp from the melted frost, as she continued to watch the game in a bitter silence.

Suddenly a voice blared out, _Rona Switt! What the hell do you think you're doing? _

A mental image of herself walked to the stage of her mind, staring her down.

_Look at yourself. Woe, woe, woe. Bloody ashamed to be your imaginary construct._

Merlin, she was even insensitive to herself.

Mental Rona rolled her eyes. _Oh, get a grip, woman. Since when do you stand idly by when your team is losing? I know what you're thinking — I'm your subconscious, after all. You think nothing you do can make a difference anymore. That all you've worked for is now gone. Quidditch. Oliver. _

Well, it was true.

_Oh for the love of Rowena, NO! That is NOT the right answer! You're supposed to be inspired to fight for what you lost, idiot. You risked your position on the team for Oliver, and you risked Oliver for your team. _

Her eyes fluttered down. She had. And she would do it all over again.

_Then why are you scared to risk anything now? Yeah yeah, you'll get by without Quidditch or Oliver. Strong, independent Rona. All she needs is her books and herself. Or is she too stubborn to drop the act and admit how much they mean to her?_

Rona bit her lip, knowing full well what the answer was. Perhaps the more troubling question was, why was she having a mid-teen crisis _in the middle of a Quidditch match?_

_Oi, you thought me up. Ask yourself._

"Aaaaand Flint scores another one for Slytherin!" bellowed Lee's magnified voice.

Her mental self paced around in the fog of her mind. _Do you hear that? _

"Burrow catches the Quaffle, but Flint and Montague are on his tail. Doesn't look like he'll keep it for long!"

_You're just going to let that go? _

Rona winced as a Bludger barreled straight toward Randolph. He barely outflew it, the Bludger clipping his leg at the last moment.

_Staying in your pity party?_

She saw the problem immediately. Randolph was trying to do the Five-Headed Hydra, but it was a two-man maneuver and Roger was straggling behind.

_Scared little_ —

"_ROGER DAVIES, MOVE YOUR ARSE BEFORE RANDOLPH GETS KILLED!_"

Roger suddenly faltered in his dive, glancing in her direction for the briefest of moments before resuming his flight toward Randolph with a renewed vigor. With Slytherin Chasers seconds away from cornering the other Chaser, Roger was finally close enough for Randolph to complete the maneuver by making a sharp turn and throwing the Quaffle underneath him.

"And Davies takes the Quaffle in a spectacular pass from Burrow! He's nearing the goals... Bletchley's geared to block and — what's this? Burrow comes out of nowhere! He gets the Quaffle! He — _he scores!_"

Her heart thudded in her ears, drowning out the cheers of the spectators around her. He listened. Roger listened to her.

The subconscious figure faded away, leaving only a Cheshire smirk. _Took you long enough. _

Rona swung forward, adrenaline pumping through her veins, and drew in a breath for her next shout. "_GRANT, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING I'VE TOLD YOU?_"

The Keeper in question shrugged at her while trying to keep his attention on the Quaffle, which was on the other side of the pitch.

"_THE SLYTHERIN WEAKNESS!_"

After a few moments of staring blankly, his face lit up. For all their short tempers and short attention spans, Rona really did love her team. She grinned back, glad to be in the thick of the game again.

But there was still more to fix. Shouting at her team was easy — a matter of breaking through her stubbornness — but talking to Oliver was going to take courage she wasn't even sure she had. She buried her head in her hands, trying to keep all the pessimistic hypothetical outcomes out.

She had to do this. She needed it. And he needed to hear it.

Rona shut her eyes when the vertigo of staring straight down became too much. "Penny," she said finally, "you're going to think I'm going bonkers. But I've got to find Oliver now."

As an affirmation of her lunacy, she heard his voice tickling her ear. "To do what, love?"

First, it was her subconscious. Now she was imagining Oliver. She hit her forehead against her palm, thrice for good measure. "Get all the sodding voices out of my head."

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist. "For such a clever girl, you're awful slow."

Her eyes snapped open. Mental manifestations weren't _warm_. Still disbelieving, she reached for the hand by her middle, but she felt the scarred Keeper knuckles.

"Oliver," she breathed.

As soon as the clasp around her loosened, she spun around — and there he was, scruffier than she had ever seen him before and eyes twinkling as bright as ever.

"I —" she began, halting as all her practiced apologies slipped out of her mind. He hadn't spoken to her in a week. He should have been angry. She had not accounted for this. The past week had definitely worn him though. Tired lines outlined his countenance and his hair lay limp in clumps, pushed up in the back by a scarf with one end pulled too long.

Oliver tugged her by the elbows, drawing her in until her chin rested against his chest. "I never said I broke up with you, silly."

Her lips parted in question. What was he talking about? The memories of their fight were clear as ever.

"It was a huge row," he continued, pulling a strand of hair back behind her ear. "But not a break-up. I would tell you if we broke up. And I hope don't ever have to do that, because I really, _really_ missed you this past week."

"_Oh._" They were still together. And he wanted to stay together. Rona broke into a grin as the thought repeated over and over. The sudden reversal of her mood was so great that she couldn't stop tears from pricking her eyes and she quickly reached up to rub them out. "I — I'm not — I'm just happy." She crushed herself against him, burying her face in his scarf. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "About everything."

Oliver laid his head on top of hers. "It's okay. I... was stubborn. When I'm angry, I just... yell like that sometimes. Usually sounds a lot worse than it really is. If it happens again."

She gulped. She didn't doubt they would have many future quarrels, especially with how stubborn both of them were. The ache of the silent week throbbed again. But a week was better than a month, better than a year, better than forever, and if he could put up with all her messes, so could she.

"Love?"

She looked up, blinking blearily. "Hmm?"

"Don't you want to watch the match?"

She blushed. She had forgotten they were still standing the middle of a spectator booth. Her gaze traveled to the people around her and found a few more preoccupied with spectating _them_. At the very edge of her vision were three gleefully smug roommates. She scowled and stuck her tongue at them, even as she remained clinging to Oliver.

He chuckled. "You know, without them threatening to hex my hair off, I might not have stopped hiding behind the benches in the back."

"You've been here the whole time?" She blinked, imagining someone as burly as Oliver trying to look inconspicuous behind first-year heads.

A touch of sheepishness lit his smile. "Had a bit of cold feet." He turned her around to face the pitch again.

"I'll have you know," she said, giddiness distracting her from putting her full attention on the game, "I hate you for being responsible for this ridiculous grin while we're still down by fifty points and _RANDOLPH WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT SHOWING OFF?_"

Randolph broke off his flamboyant dive reluctantly, peering behind at her, and went on his way following the other two Chasers.

"Burrow gets a lashing from Ravenclaw's very own Rona Switt," announced Lee. "You may not see her on the pitch, but her yells keep that team in check!"

Her cheeks reddened even more as people nearby began staring at her.

"You might know her better as our brilliant Gryffindor captain, future Quidditch cup winner Oliver Wood's girlfriend —"

"_JORDAN!_" 

* * *

><p>Ravenclaw lost.<p>

They had made a tremendous comeback in the latter half of the match, but the Snitch clinched the victory for Slytherin, though by only by thirty points. It was no fault of Cho, who had tried her best and then some, not to mention the Slytherins had made off with more than a few fouls.

Rona stomped around after the match, but she couldn't stay bitter. Oliver and endorphins came hand in hand. Plus, Ravenclaw remained second overall, and with one match left, the Cup remained very possible.

Throngs of students dotted the green as the booths emptied. Rona and Oliver descended the last steps leading down. She was about to follow the rest of her friends, who were walking ahead of her back to the castle, when he stopped her. "Not going to visit your team in the lockers?"

She was still avoiding Roger. He might have listened to her when she yelled at him, but she was now convinced it had been a fluke. "Roger won't want to see me," she said with a shrug.

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck, something she noticed he did if he was fiddling with a thought. "Maybe you should go talk to him."

She arched a brow. "But you hate him."

"Oi, I didn't say I didn't hate Roger. I said you should_ talk_ to him," he said, throwing an arm around her to steer her in a u-turn back to the pitch. "You've got to start listening. Last time we had this problem, you thought we broke up."

"So you still hate Roger," she said, obediently walking only because she knew he was right.

"Trust me, Quidditch captains hating each other is a fact of life. Like... the sky is blue. Dumbledore is old. Gryffindor will win the Cup this year."

Rona rolled her eyes. "You're down by three hundred points."

"Which will only make our comeback that much sweeter. Now go make amends. I know you miss your team."

While Oliver waited a ways outside, she walked down to the lockers. It was less rowdy than their last game, typical after a loss. Everyone had already finished showering and was in the middle of changing and packing up. One by one, they noticed her entrance and gave a wave. Roger had yet to look up.

"You lot did good today," she said. It was strange to sound so calm after yelling the entire match.

Jason scrunched up his brows, reeling back from his locker with a squinted eye. "That's it? You're worse when we _win_ games."

Randolph kicked at him. "She's happy right now," he said as he pulled a shirt over his head. "Don't ruin it."

"No, I mean it," Rona insisted, though Randolph was correct. She couldn't remember the last time she said anything to him without trying to kill him. "We've got a good chance at the Cup still. We just have to make up for it in the next match."

Roger shut his locker and finally glanced up at her. A long quiet followed as the others hushed their conversations. "Still choosing Wood, are you?"

Her shoulders prickled. "I wouldn't _need_ to choose if you just — "

"You were always trouble, Switt," he interrupted, strangely nonchalant. "You better not be late to practice on Monday on account of him."

She blinked, her finger that she raised in protest frozen in midair.

He held out a hand, mustering an awkward smile. "We couldn't have done it without you. I know what you've been doing in the evenings with the team."

Rona took his hand, not quite believing the lack of yelling that was happening at the moment. "Not even minding Oliver now?"

"Well don't expect me to invite him over for tea."

"At least you both agree on one thing." Her conscience prodded her to give, with great reluctance, the second necessary apology of the day. "I... should've told you the truth."

He shook his head, sighing in his captain way. "Apology accepted."

He smiled and she grinned back, for she knew that as much as they would disagree now and in the future, they both loved the team more than anything else, and that was all that mattered.

Jason whispered to Jeremy, "Do you think I'd be ruining this poignant moment with a group hug?"

"Not at all."

"_GROUP HUG!_"

Rona then found herself tackled by the five other somewhat dressed blokes of her team. A dream to some girls, but just another day on the job for her.

"It's good to be back," she grinned.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** There's just the epilogue left now :D Thanks for all your lovely reviews guys! If you want to read some of my other stuff, I've got two other WIPs I'm working on over at my HPFF, plus the sequel to this (but I warn you: I can't promise much with the sequel yet, because I want to finish one of my WIPs first before really getting into it)


	17. The Last Match

"Love, wake up."

Rona's eyes snapped open at the sound of Oliver's voice, but they did not want to stay open. She mumbled a sentence so incoherent with sleep that even_ she _wasn't sure what she was saying and promptly burrowed deeper into Oliver's shoulder.

"Rona,_ wake up_."

She squirmed around as the vibration from his chest tickled her side and foiled her attempts to ignore him. She had promised to keep him company that morning as he prepped for the match but hadn't realized he meant at the crack of dawn.

"Oi, dead weight!"

Her stomach lurched as the surface underneath her gave way, and she fanned her arms out wildly in an ineffective attempt to find the closest handhold — but it was unnecessary; Oliver caught her before she plunged more than a wand's length.

Rona _had_ been sitting in his lap. Currently, however, she was wedged in the gap between his legs, her feet stuck up on one end and inches from kicking him in the face. The arms that caught her around her shoulders and knees lifted her out of this predicament, unceremoniously depositing her to a seat next to him on the bench.

With the last of her sleep knocked out of her system, she sent him a glower to which he responded with a peck on the cheek. "Sorry love, but I lost all feeling my legs ten minutes ago, and I need functional limbs for today's match."

"Excuses," Rona muttered, reaching down to pick up the textbook that had fallen off the bench during the tussle. She had brought it with the intention of studying, but according to Oliver, he had found her snoring face first between pages ninety and ninety-one within five minutes of arriving on the pitch. He had carried her into the locker at some point, and she had been dozing on and off since then.

Not expecting a second attempt to study to be any more successful, she slumped against his shoulder to glance at the clipboard he held instead. It held typical captain fare: reminders, observations from practice, tips from the latest _Quaffle Quoter._

They had been looser with keeping their team secrets close during the past weeks. The first time she had forgotten her notebook at Oliver's dorm, she had retrieved it from him the next day with some hesitancy. Oliver promised her that he didn't open it and from the way he looked at her and how he grasped her hand she knew that he was telling the truth. She had forgotten it a few more times — he had a way of making her careless around him — but she stopped worrying by then.

Oliver even invited her to his practices. Roger then grudgingly muttered Oliver wasn't such a troll after all, though it was followed by a suggestion to remember any details just in case the relationship went sour. Everyone else cooed over how sweet the gesture was. To Rona, it was just a testament to how absurdly Quidditch-filled her romance had been.

Besides, she knew that the real reason Oliver wanted her at practices was so he could show off.

Rona was in the middle of deciphering the second half of his scrawled notes — the more she stared at it, the more it looked like an avant-garde art piece rather than a paragraph — when it suddenly snapped out of view.

"No peeking!" Oliver challenged her with a smirk as he held it an arms-length away.

Her eyes narrowed. She had left a very comfortable bed for him and now he had broke the golden rule: interrupting her reading. Granted, it wasn't hers to read, but that was a secondary concern — _he had interrupted her reading._

Rona planted a kiss on the side of his chin and another one slightly below, keeping her eyes trained on his all the while. She had more than just _Quidditch_ strategies up her sleeve.

Oliver swallowed nervously and his arm slackened as she continued her slow assault up his jaw. "I know what you're trying to do..." he murmured, though he didn't resist.

Now she knew why he liked to tease her; this was _fun_. Her fingers crawled up the front of his shirt and hooked around the collar. "Yeah, but it'll still work won't it, _love?_"

It was the kiss behind his ear that made Oliver snap. The clipboard hit the bench and before she knew it, his lips caught hers and he pulled her back into his lap, his arms tight around her waist and insistent on her staying there.

Rona let herself get distracted for awhile, tangling her fingers in his hair. Only reluctantly did she loosen a hand to search for the fallen set of notes. At the first rustle of paper underneath her touch, she broke out of Oliver's clutch and shot across the room, looking back only to leave an impish grin.

"_Oi!_" Oliver bolted after her, still under a a half-distracted daze.

She skidded to the back row of lockers with her prize in a tight hold. She could care less about the information it held. The point was she had it and he did not. Rona recited the first sentence that caught her eye. "Play Twenty Two: loop around opponent's Chasers and — " She ducked away from his lunge. "— have Beater hit Bludger from above. Follow up by — "

Oliver grabbed her by the waist and plucked the board from her grasp. "Forgot I'm a Keeper?" he said as he dangled it in front of her.

Rona pushed at the arms that held her prisoner, but it was futile. Strategizing about Quidditch unfortunately did not improve upper body strength quite like playing Quidditch did. She craned her head upwards, a back-up ploy in mind. "I was just wondering why you're playing with these formations," she said, shrugging. "I suppose if you think your team just isn't _skilled enough_ to perform the real stuff —"

The victorious smirk dropped. He flipped through the pages. "Which plays are you talking about — "

Her suppressed laugh came bubbling out and Oliver froze, the guilt of gullibility unmistakable. "Very funny..." he said, flicking her on the head.

Rona twisted around to face him. "I win this round."

He rolled his eyes. "Why not we let today's match decide that?"

"Why... don't you just admit that I win?"

And because both of them went by the mantra 'two can play it that game', instead of replying, Oliver dipped down to kiss her instead.

The two danced across the room in their embrace, until her back found the side of the locker. As many times as Rona had been averse to being in such a position before, she had no objections then. He broke off their kiss but not a second passed before she seized him close again, and when her lips were about to leave his, he insisted they stay.

The pattern continued until Rona knew they were losing track of time. She shouldn't have been surprised when a light cough interrupted them. She could hear the swear under his breath and her cheeks begin to burn before they even turned to the doorway and saw the six amused members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Safe to say you had a _good_ morning, cap'n," said Alicia, raising a brow.

They fumbled out of each other's grasp. Oliver reached up to fix his mussed hair, though his fiddling only made it worse. "I thought I said to meet here at nine-thirty."

Fred tapped the face of the pocket watch he had been swinging around. "It's nine thirty-two."

"Since when do any of you ever arrive on time?"

The irritation in Oliver's voice caused all sorts of tittering amongst the girls. "It's all right," said Alicia with a smirk. "We'll give you a moment to sort out your libido. I mean, Quidditch could only suppress it for so long."

As Oliver floundered with his words, Rona took pity and smoothed past her embarrassment long enough to address the group. "I should probably get going, actually..."

She picked up her book and the clipboard, offering the latter to Oliver, but he took her hand instead. "You don't have to go," he said with a twinge of dejection.

"And risk me undermining your authority every chance I get?" She replaced her hand with the clipboard and kissed his cheek, hovering by his ear to send a last taunt. "You're going down."

His eyes flashed to hers. "Wanna bet?"

"Five Galleons?"

"Not money. Loser does anything the winner tells them to." He winked. "Familiar terms?"

Rona hesitated, her overactive imagination providing _interesting_ possibilities for Oliver's potential demands, but she could see '_Scared?'_ about to leave his lips.

"Deal."

She took her leave, squeezing past the still-grinning team by the doorway with a sheepish smile. Thank Merlin it wasn't her own team; she doubted she could show her face ever again, let alone make a graceful exit.

George nudged his twin. "Let's throw the match so she can sell Oliver again."

"Oi!"

Oliver began barking orders like he was trying to make up for his earlier fluster by going into extreme captaining mode. Rona was barely able to stop laughing when she arrived at her own team's lockers. Jeremy and Roger glanced up at her entrance and mumbled their respective good-mornings. Roger resumed shaking out his robes, but Jeremy stared at her with increasing scrutiny and the same smile that the Gryffindor team sported earlier.

"Didn't see you at breakfast this morning."

The departed blush returned again. "Oh_ shut up_."

"If this morning didn't involve some sort of sabotaging," said Roger, swinging around, "please, for the sake of decency, discuss later."

Rona sat down the bench with her open textbook but her mind was still hazy with Oliver. "If we're lucky, I permanently damaged his leg."

She caught the insinuation barely after Jeremy did. He smirked. "Kinky."

"Like how Hannah permanently damaged your brain and how I will permanently damage _you_." Rona raised a hand to smack him.

He swat her out of the way. "I am ever surprised at his patience in putting up with you."

"Already taking his side?" It hadn't been until earlier that week that she had discovered Jeremy and Oliver's sudden camaraderie, and they still wouldn't say how it came to be, though it was no doubt bonding over Quidditch dreams and silly girls. They made a habit of taking their morning flights at the same time and she was sure by now they were braiding each other friendship bracelets.

"He's for Puddlemere. How can I not? Speaking of Puddlemere, Jonathan Ridley's supposedly coming to see the match today — "

"_JONATHAN RIDLEY?_" she shrieked, before promptly clapping a hand over her mouth in horror at the squeal that left her mouth.

It was at that moment that Jason and the rest of the fourth years happened to walk through the doorway and now the entire team stood gaping at her. Roger was the first to form words. "What...the hell... was that?"

"...that wasn't... I was..." Rona cleared her throat, trying her best to maintain composure. "It's exciting. That's all. Not every day we have a Quidditch celebrity at Hogwarts." She stood straighter and put her hands on her hips for added authority. "And he's probably here scouting for recruits, so we better all do our best to impress him. I want to look good."

Jeremy cleared his throat. "You mean, _we_ want to look good, right?"

The team snickered around her and she sent her withering gaze around the room. "Well, we should want to look good anyhow. It's our last game." She smiled wryly. "And if we do well enough, who knows? Maybe I'll sell Oliver to you lot." 

* * *

><p>After accidentally staying too long in the lockers, Rona rushed up the stairs to the spectator booth just as the players were walking out on the pitch. Her friends were in the usual spot at the front. Percy was there as well, an arm draped around Penny's shoulders.<p>

"We better win," said Rona as she joined them. "I've got a lot at stake here."

"You and everyone else," said Edie absently as she scanned the paper she held. "Okay, who's on... incident at the handshake?"

Percy and Hannah raised a hand. "I'm telling you," Percy said to Penny. "He's prone to violent outbursts. The man throws clocks."

Rona blinked. "You're running bets? _...on whether Oliver and Roger will beat each other up?_"

"Rona darling, we've been running bets for ages," said Hannah. "Speaking of which, I called it on the sneaking out for pre-game snogging." She beckoned at Penny, who fished out a bag of sickles from her pockets while muttering something about 'Rona's bloody hormones'.

"How do you even_ know about that?_"

Hannah handed her a consolatory sickle as she counted the rest. "When there's money on the line, we know everything."

Rona stuck her head over Edie's shoulder to read the paper. "First kiss... the date... whether he's spying... whether_ I'm_ spying — you even bet on _whether Jason would accept him?_"

"Pish posh, that's all just small stuff. Today's match is the most important." Penny tilted her head toward Percy. "He wanted to go big. Ten Galleons for the winning team."

Percy wrung his hands like a man without the money to pay up. "I'm trying to recover my losses."

"The first bet was on whether you would ever fancy him at all. Percy, ever so generous to that dolt of yours, said that Oliver wouldn't be able to seduce a cactus if he wanted to."

"No offense to you, Rona," he added.

Rona searched around for someone who saw this scene as absurdly as she did. Her relationship had instigated an inter-house gambling ring. And she wasn't even getting a cut of the money.

"They're doing the handshake now!"

The seventh years crowded to the front. Rona found herself squished between Percy and Hannah; both of them were muttering under their breaths for someone to lunge at the other. She was more focused on Oliver and his perfectly-tailored robes and barely suppressed her second squeal of the day with a curse directed toward fit Quidditch blokes.

As Oliver and Roger approached each other, everyone drew a collective breath. Roger stuck out a hand. Pause. Oliver took it, shaking it once. Twice. Three times. They stood for another beat; Rona was sure she could see Roger's grip tighten. A second later, their arms returned to their side and no one had died.

"_...damn_."

"Not even thumb war."

"How anti-climatic."

By the time the players shoved off from the pitch, the first exchange of Sickles was complete. Next, they were watching for first possession.

"And they're off! Katie Bell gets the Quaffle — "

"Damn!"

"I'd like my Sickles back, Wadsworth."

The expletives continued to fly and coins continued to jingle at the first goal, first foul, and first Bludger hit. Meanwhile, Rona offered some swearing of her own, a hundred decibels loud.

"_DUNCAN, STOP FLEXING FOR THE AUDIENCE AND GET YOUR ARSE BACK IN THERE!_"

Ravenclaw was only down by a single goal and the Snitch was nowhere in sight. But suddenly, both Seekers shot off in the same direction.

"The Snitch is in sight and look at that Firebolt go! Harry's hot on the chase, but Cho's not far behind!"

"_HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!_" Oliver's voice boomed over the din. "_KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!_"

Rona threw him a furious glower. "_DON'T YOU DARE — THAT'S MY SEEKER! JASON, TEACH HIM A LESSON!_"

"Is it just me," Edie whispered, "or do they want to kill each other even _more_ since they've gone official?"

The teams continued neck and neck, the Snitch barely out of both Seekers' grasp. At one point, Ravenclaw was down thirty points, and Hannah suggested that Rona lift her shirt and flash Oliver as distraction tactic. Rona ignored her. Four minutes later, the teams were tied again. Randolph scored three consecutive goals using a scoring technique Rona had taught him a week earlier.

Suddenly, a patch of sky lit up and Harry's Firebolt barreled down toward the pitch followed by Cho's Comet Two Sixty. Her heart sank at the sight of gold in the Gryffindor Seeker's hand.

"_HARRY'S GOT IT! HE CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!_"

That was it. That was their last match. Ravenclaw lost. The residual adrenaline still tingled at her fingertips with nowhere to go. Rona was used to losing, but it was different this time, knowing it was the last match as the team's strategist. They had been so close to the Cup — just one Snitch away.

But she saw Oliver as he flew down to the grass, not even landing properly before he was running toward Harry and the rest of his team to celebrate with the widest smile she had ever seen.

Losing wasn't so bad. 

* * *

><p>"A <em>skirt<em>," Penny repeated for the third time. "He's making you wear a _skirt_."

Rona stood in front of the mirror as Edie and Hannah fussed over what she should wear. "Wear a skirt and be ready by seven. That's all he said."

Rona was surprised at his demands, too. In a bet that involved _anything_, she expected much worse. She knew that if Gryffindor had lost, he would have been the one in a skirt.

Edie and Hannah continued to tear through their respective piles of clothes, bickering over what would match Rona's cream blouse. They were at it for so long that Rona stuck her hand in the middle of the mess and drew out the first thing she grabbed.

"This one," she said, not even sure what she was holding beyond the fact that it was red and flimsy. She was beginning to regret her decision.

But when she put the skirt on, she was pleasantly surprised at how well it fit her. It wasn't dangerously short — which was how she knew it was one of Edie's and not Hannah's — and the gauzy layers gave it a modest flair.

Penny then began assaulting her hair, sticking in pins in every which way, while Hannah shoved lipstick and blush in her face. It all happened too quick for her to protest and before she knew it, they were marching her out the dorm.

The team had crashed on the sofas of the common room in their own celebration. They had not won, but that was no reason to withhold a party on that account. As they regaled tales of the past years, the common room continued to ring with laughter.

Roger raised his glass. "Remember that time she tried to use a Beater's Bat and ended up nearly taking out my head instead?"

"You deserved it," Rona muttered, stopping at the bottom of the staircase to adjust her heels. Penny had thrust them upon her, despite being half a size too large.

Jason let out a low whistle. "Dressed up for lover-boy? He's been trying to figure out the riddle for the past five minutes."

"Why didn't you let him in?"

"More fun to let him struggle."

Rona rolled her eyes and hobbled over to the door. When she reached for the knob, the door swung open. She was ready to congratulate Oliver for finally answering the knocker correctly, if not for a short pigtailed second year who walked briskly past her.

She couldn't help but snicker at the scowl on his face. "You weren't the one who figured out the password, were you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You kids have fun," Jason called as Rona stepped over the threshold. "Bring her back by eleven, or we're coming after you."

When the lock clicked shut behind her, she took Oliver's arm and she felt him relax. "I'm surprised there's no interrogation this time," he said.

Rona never tried too hard to figure out why and when Jason did what he did. "My team is insane... They say idiotic things and do idiotic things but..." She shrugged. "You know."

"They just want to see you happy?"

The smile on her lips grew a little wider. "Something like that." As they walked down the staircase, the light from the sconces gave her a good look at what Oliver was wearing and it was decidedly more casual. "So why'd you tell me to wear a skirt?"

"I figure they'd look good on you. We're just going to the victory party for a bit. Promise not to gloat too much."

"That's all?"

He ruffled her hair, causing leftover pins to scatter on the ground. "There are some things you just can't think too hard about."

"It's my job to think too hard." She put up the indignant pout she had been using every time Oliver poked at her habits. "Have you forgot you're dating a strategist?_ The _Strategist?"

"Love."

"Fine, former strategist. But hopefully I'll be one again. I sent the applications yesterday — "

"_Rona._"

" — even to Puddlemere — "

Oliver swiveled in front of her and kissed her, just long enough to break her chain of thought, and clapped her cheeks together so she couldn't get another word out. "You think too hard. You should dress girlier. And you talk. Entirely. Too. Much."

"Whish ish why you love me," she mumbled through his fingers.

With a chuckle and a sigh, he twined his fingers with hers. "I'll never say."

* * *

><p><em>"HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! ... KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!" from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by JK Rowling, page 251.<em>

**A/N** Phew! There is a sequel, technically. Like I said, it's not my main work right now so it'll take awhile for me to get to it. I'm not going to hype it up or anything because I don't want you to be disappointed when it doesn't update much xD But it's very slow moving, not very cliffhangery, just a casual laaadedah fluff. For fun! It's called "Play" and it covers a few years time after their seventh year. Everyone will be returning, and it'll mostly be about their transition into adulthood and life on their own - very slice-of-life and all that. Expect explosions of fluffy fluff, Oliver/Jeremy bromance (figuring out toasters and whatnot), meddling in other people's romances, interesting loft situations, a cat that sits on Oliver's head, and rampant snogging.

My other projects are a next-gen adventure-comedy as well as an Al/OC side thing. If you like next gen, check them out! :) These, and the sequel, are over at my main account at HPFF, which is most up to date with my writing. Game also has chapter images there, if you were wondering who I cast them as :D

Thanks for sticking around til the very end guys! :D


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